A Study of Mercy
by Flammifera
Summary: The word mercy seems to have a clear meaning, yet appearances are deceiving. Especially with the Hunger Games, good turns to bad and every intention twists into something unrecognisable, the outcome impossible to predict. Will there be mercy for the tributes? SYOT CLOSED
1. Chapter 1 - Prologue

_Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy. _

_\- Shakespeare_

* * *

**Marcella Vain, Victor of the 52nd Hunger Games**

**POV**

_Six month before the 53rd Hunger Games_

"Excuse me, but is that really your question?"

His words are still ringing through my head, their echo hollow as it fails to escape my ear drums. I deem myself successful just by asking if he meant what he said. He can't be serious. '_Marcella,_ _how do you think I can make the Games even better this year?'_

I watch the Head Gamemaker open his mouth as he prepares to answer and force myself to listen.

"Of course! You surely understand why I want to improve on my last years' work and as victor, you're my best ressource." He says it as if it's clear as day. Just the next logical step to take. His voice is acutally pleasant, full of warmth and respect, something I didn't expect from a man who tried to kill me a few month ago. In my confusion I attempt to focus on the simple things, as I was told to do when I feel like loosing the world around me.

The man in front of me seems simple enough, at least for someone from the Capitol. His black hair is cut short save a few braided strands on the left of his head, his curious eyes study mine while he waits. To my surprise he doesn't wear a tie or a bow, instead his pearl white shirt is buttoned up tight and the golden vest gives a splash of colour. I have never before spoken to Head Gamemaker Ignatius Ross, but since I entered his office he hasn't introduced himself. I guess when you're that famous you take it for granted that everyone knows who you are. I certainly haven't reached that point yet.

"Well, we can always start at the start, you know?" he offers, this time impatience resonating in his words.

"Yes, please do," I answer. _"No, please don't,"_ is what I wanted to answer. He takes my agreement with a thin-lipped smile, which looks strange, as if someone sew them together. I take a deep breath, banishing the image.

"At the cornucopia there were several obstacles, like the tripping stones and the giant thistle bushes. Did you like them? We already concluded that the thistles caused more problems to the tributes, but of course, those are mere statistics. When you ran for supplies, which one did you think about more?"

There I am, back in the arena when it all started. I remember my loud heartbeat drowning out every other sound, the nervous shuffling of the district nine girl next to me and even the drumming sound of the countdown. Excitement rushes through my body, just like it did back then, and momentarily makes me want to vomit. I snap my eyes closed, hand in front of my mouth. Ignatius Ross raises an eyebrow when I reopen them. Right, he expects an answer.

Thistles...the thought leaves a prickling sensation on my skin, though the memory is dull in my head. There was something about Obsidians blood, all over the place, his pain-filled screams, but I don't feel the desire to search for details. A sudden rush of anger gets to me. What is he even thinking? They were traps designed to kill me. Why would I like them?

"No, I didn't like them. And I thought a thousand different things, I can't remember if your 'obstacles' were very important. I guess not, though." I pause, that came off harsh. "The scratches stung for a little while," I offer, utterly unsure about how helpful this will be.

"Hm...they were popular with our audience. Why did you not like them? Could I have done something different to make you like them?"

_"Would you rather I killed you with small spikes or big spikes?"_ He could as well have asked that. So this man really wants me to design traps with him and maybe even the whole arena. The very things that will scare the children the most, or at least, scared me the most. The other tributes were human beings, I could fight them, I could predict their actions, but the arena...it was a monster. For fifteen days I was trapped inside the womb of a killing machine and now, how do they expect me to help make it worse for the tributes to come? One of them will get out of there and has to live with those memories, just like me. No, I won't have a part in that.

I decided early on that I was willing to forgive the Capitol citizens' their insolenses because truly, they are blind to what they're doing. However, this man isn't a citizen, at least not in my mind. He is in charge of the killing – he has to be conscious to the effects of his creations. In his calm, attentive face I search for a spark of that knowledge, but find nothing. It's irritating to no ends.

My instincts scream for me to either punch him or run away and maybe in the past, I would have done it. Now I dig into the edges of the big wooden chair, I know I can't allow myself to slip up with any of the Capitol officials. Silence is not an option I can take either.

"Should we move on to another part of the arena first? If you have more ideas on something else..."

"Im thinking!" I interrupt, only to remind myself again that I need to be careful here. "Please, give me a few minutes." He does seem surprised, maybe a little annoyed, but not angry.

"Alright. Should I order some coffee? Wine? I see this is going to take a while, so we might as well get comfortable."

I merely shake my head. There is only one thing my every fiber wants to tell him, though I don't know how and if I do, what will happen. Comfortable is a state I can't imagine in this situation. Yet, Ignatius Ross seems to be the most trustworthy of the high ranked people, however ironic that may be.

"Head Gamemaker Ross? Can I tell you the truth and you won't hold it against me?" I ask.

"Of course!" he exclaims, smiling with excitement and an honesty in his voice I have to believe. Eyes shut and go for it, I decide, before my sanity tells me otherwise.

"I didn't really like any of your traps. Or your mutations. I think...the games are for tributes fighting against each other, not fighting against you, right? So...In my opinion the best arena would be a simple one. No traps, some good places for a fair fight. I think the tributes would appreciate that and the people would like that too. They've seen so many of your creations over the last years, traps, poison, mutations. This will be a a surprise for them."

As soon as my words fade out I feel relieved, letting out a deep breath. I make myself look into the head gamemakers' face and to my surprise, find him looking hurt. His upper lip twitches, he blinks a few times and then, the expression is gone. Shaking his head, he pushes himself out of the chair, smiling again.

"Thank you for your insights, Miss Vain."

* * *

**Welcome, welcome to my SYOT! **

**I hope you enjoyed my little warm-up chapter. I have to admit, it really is nothing more than a warm-up in which I try to get to know this universe and get back a feeling for all the words. There won't be a political side story in this SYOT, as I just want to keep it simple for myself. Nonetheless I'd like to know what you think of this Prologue, so feel free to voice your opinion in a review. I'd love some constructive criticism. **

**If you would like to submit a tribute, you can find all the information and the form on my profile.**


	2. Chapter 2 - Prologue II

**Felicius Morrison, Director of "_Fortunate Fortune – Betting office"_**

**POV**

_3 month before the 53rd HungerGames_

It is three in the afternoon when I finally get to my office. The spring sun is still weak, barely able to warm my pale skin, while not a danger for its' light complexion. Yes, I love days like this one. Lovely days! A shame that I am needed at work today at all, but with the Hunger Games approaching fast, tests want to be run, plans want to be made and a tiny piece of secret information wants to be put to use. Forcefully I hold on to my dignity, trying not to skip along the hallway. That would be a little bit childish afterall.

"Good afternoon, Boss", Rosie greets me as I walk through the door. Standing up from behind her desk, the young secretary doesn't look half as happy as she sounds. Well, at least she is trying.

She has her hair up today, held by a big green bow which machtes her dress, not a single black strand has escaped it. I sigh, does she know it makes her look incredibly stiff? She should curl it, let it fall open or at least choose a casual ponytail. We're not the Gamemaker headquater here.

"What do you have for me, Rosie? No, wait! I'll make us coffee first."

"Thanks, Boss." This time her smile is genuine. "Make one for Laudius as well."

I make my way into the small kitchen, which greets me with air so thick I have to breath with my mouth wide open the first few seconds. Already sweat starts to run down my forehead – this room needs a window! Expertly I set the coffee mill to the right time and wait through the soft whir of beans being shredded to powder. Everything else basically works on its' own, so I take my time to carefully place a cookie for everyone on the saucer and pick out the spoons fitting to each cup. When I finally leave our private little sauna, balancing all three cups of coffee, Rosie and Laudius await me at the conference table. With ten seats it is way to big for our team, but when I bought it I thought it would make an impression and I have to admit, I was right.

"Here you go!" I exclaim and take my place at the head of the table. "Let us start with an overlook. Today you had test runs and finalization of the first available bets, with the exception of those that present themselves spontaneously during the Games. I presume everything went well?"

"Sadly, it didn't. I couldn't do the test runs, the programme isn't working."

Laudius speaks first today and I give him a surprised eyebrow raise. The middle-aged lover of red and pink is new this year, and as of now it seemed he'd rather remain silent until there was no other option, but that is improvement! However, his news are not what I wanted to hear. Why would he choose such a moment to suddenly be talkative?

"What?" Is the only thing I can blurt out in response, still trying to sort things out in my head.

"There appears to be an error with the source code, Sir. My predecessor must've tried to rework the statistic representations and it isn't just some missing comma. I already started to go through the whole thing, but it will take a while until I can be sure what the problem is. It's not anything with the if-clauses and I think it's not a sync-fail either, so..."

"Stop right here. I just want you to get this damn programme up and running. I don't need to know the details, as long as it is working afterwards. Tomorrow morning. And then you can do the test run. Good?"

"G..good", he answers a little hesitant, leaning back into his chair, his fingernails clicking against the procelain of the coffee cup.

Relieved, I inwardly pad myself on the shoulders. That was quick and a good solution – just like a good boss should have up his sleeve at all times. One day of delay should not do any harm to our business. I turn to face Rosie, who has been sipping her coffee the whole time, but still the cup isn't even half-empty.

"So now, Rosie, what do you have for me?"

She puts the cup down and straightens her back, pulling out notes from the green folder in front of her.

"We'll have the traditional stuff with the reapings first. How many will volunteer, how many will cry. I think we should skip the stuff about their ages though, it didn't run well over the last years. Nobody takes high risks with that."

I nod in approvement, pointing her to go on.

"During their training time I would like to introduce a bet on their scores, afterall those are of great interest and most people watch the inside reports on what happens in the training center. Highest and lowest scores would be good, as well as who gets them. When that's done we'll just have the usual before the Games again."

For a moment, I reflect on what she said and come to the conclusion that it is all fine, just as always. Now, time for my secret information! A pity I can't share all the juicy insider news with them, the risk of secrets getting out would be too great. But at least I can prompt them to it and that alone will be fun!

"Good," I start and pause theatrically. "Make sure to close all bets concerning weapons before the Games start."

As expected, I earn irritated looks, two of them. Ah, this is making my day so much better!

"We never did that. Why change it now?" Rosie asks.

"It is because I want to make money! Swords, Bow and Arrow, Knife...that is what they all bet on. But no one will get it right this time, promise." I wink at her, which, for some reason, she does not seem to understand.

"Is that so? What do you know that I don't?"

"Insider information. I can't tell you, sorry, but just do as I say. It will give us a pay raise like you have never seen one before!"

"Alright. I'm not sure what you're getting at, but if you think it's best, Boss..."

Rosie puts down a few notes, all the while shaking her head with obvious sceptisism. This bad mood will get her some time, or me, if it is becoming worse. Sometimes I really wish I had a more cheerful team surrounding me.

* * *

**Welcome back!**

**In this chapter we meet Felicius, who organises bets in the Capitol. He only has a small business, but for those of you who want to have any influence on this story, that will be important. Whenever there is an open bet, you can take part in that in order to gain Sponsor points – yes, this is the introduction to a SPONSOR System.**

**Throughout the chapters, Felicius will announce bets and for those who win, there will be points awarded, depending on the odds. There is no bet going on now, but I want to start with that in the next chapter. All the detailed information will be on my profile.**

**Related to that: Almost all of the spaces are still open, so please consider submitting a tribute! I'd like to get started with the tribute introductions as soon as I can, but of course that is only possible with your help. I'm grateful for every reservation and submission. **


	3. Chapter 3 - District 2 Introductions

_Two weeks before the reaping_

* * *

**Jade Dove (18) **

**She would not recognise mercy**

* * *

Careful to apply just the right amount of pressure, I haul pencil over paper to create a thin, yet dark line. What is taking them so long? As I assess my work I take mental notes of where to make adjustments and where to add structure. The wings especially, also, the feet. They shouldn't even have anything to discuss, afterall I am the only option. I set the drawing away, it can wait, at least for today.

_Knock. _My pulse increases tenfold at the sound, but falls down again as I realise that it is just the door to my room.

"Come in!" I say and my father leans into the frame. On his forehead drips of sweat run down and gather in his deep wrinkles, but he smiles at me calm and reassuring.

"What would you like for dinner, sweatheart? We have fresh chicken, all kinds of vegetables...but I could get anything, it's still early enough."

"Oh, I want some chicken nuggets! And tell the cook to make that spicy cheese dip. I don't care about the rest", I decide quickly and without deeper thought, but he lets me chose often, so I have options prepared on my inner wishlist.

"I will. Don't worry, it's still early morning. Your mother would be so proud of you", he says and then vanishes, off to meet his brother and nephew. In the past I used to accompany him often, but nowadays there is much that I'd rather do.

I sigh, turning to look outside, where the sunshine indicates that 'early' is really only an interpretation from a man who doesn't need to wake up at six almost every morning. An hour later the first training session starts at the Academy and seeing how I'm waiting for a phonecall from them, ten-thirty is anything but early. Even on a training free day they should be up and working since dawn.

Actually this situation makes me start to worry, because there are so many things that could have gone wrong with my plan. What if someone found out? But no, that doesn't matter.

I made sure to sound as official as possible, even preparing a letter for anyone who doubted my honesty – some of them did, to my dismay, but I send them prove, sealed and all. A mayor's daugther should not have to go to that length to be believed in.

However, the past showed me enough of how disrespectful most of the rich and famous kids have gotten. It will teach them a lesson that they didn't even got the chance to compete for a spot in the Games now. Not that I would have let anyone take away my birthright under normal circumstances, but most of those petty would-be's probably thought they deserved to try and go up against me. I don't know how that was supposed to make them feel better.

A stinging pain flares up in my index finger and I look down to find it totally ruined. The deepish pink of the nailbed is visible and has turned red on one side, where the last bit of skin sticks out. With a deep breath I put it into my mouth and bite down, hearing the satisfying noice of rupturing skin soon after. Well, that will be another appointment with the nail artist.

Finally, I get ripped out of my thoughts by the phone ringing.

"This is Jade Dove speaking", I answer, joyful anticipation rushing through my veins.

"Good day, Miss Dove. I'm happy to inform you that you have been chosen to volunteer for the Hunger Games at the reaping next week", the secretarys' voice says at the other end, though she sounds indifferent as always.

"Thank you so much!" I did it. I actually did it and now, I get to be a victor!

"The coaching staff requires you to come over as soon as you can in order to discuss last instructions. You will also have to sign your agreement papers at the office."

"Sure", I agree and hang up. They'll give me a beautiful golden crown and finally have to acknowledge my skill. After years of work, I earned this great honor.

* * *

**Amran Hibiscu (15) **

**He lives by their mercy**

* * *

Stinking vomit sorrounds the body that lies on the floor and with the red mixed into it, ugly ochre is on the verge of turning to brown. Pale, tiny hands clutch a heavy iron stick, unable to wrap around completely. Small bruises, big bruises. They are like pointers on the skin. Hit again. Once they break open, blood runs out, down onto the marble tiles, where it connects with other tiny streams from different directions.

There's also fire. The light yellow flames shoot up in between those bloody pictures, like a grim reminder for why it happened. Had to happen. Blinking, head shaking, I try to lose the images, which I thought I'd managed minutes ago. Apparently, today they are especially hard to leave behind.

My legs start to tingle, urging me to make them gain more ground in shorter time, but I will them to stay at an even pace. Three steps later I stop completely.

I'm already halfway through the mountain pass, the stoney road that runs between the nut and its' smaller familiar. Workers will be up here in about an hour, crowding the calm nature with their frantic footsteps, rumbling wagons and even cars, filling the air with their loud shouts, all echoing back to create a noise that would make me want to go deaf.

In that way, my early waking hours are a blessing – otherwise I'd not be able to find a silent place within district two.

From the side of the road I pick up a handful of pebbles, letting them fall through my fingers while I start walking again. From up to down, from one hand to the other. Their sharp edges leave tiny scratches between my fingers, though I barely notice. That's what training also gives you: enough callus in places you'd never know you want it. The stones continue to rattle with an unrefined melody, some dull, some clear, some high, some low. After a while I take them one by one, flipping them back onto the road.

As I reach the end of it the first workers cross my path, most of them walking straight ahead without meeting my gaze. Thankful that they're not disrupting my calm, I continue back to civilisation and let my rumbling stomach guide me.

Dina's coffee shop stands central and is already well attended, so no one looks up at the chirming of those tiny doorbells. They're trashy, but I'd never mention it to the middle aged woman, who now rushes towards me from behind the counter to give me a strong jab on the shoulder.

"Good morning, boy. Come, sit already, you're lucky I have that pie of yours' done by now. Why, I swear you're earlier every week."

"Thanks. Good morning, Dina" I reply, licking my lips to get the usual dryness out of my mouth.

She vanishes and leaves me to find a seat, which I immediatley take to, as now people have started to recognise me. The usual costumers always do and they always stare, and the irregular guests are quick to follow their lead. Heat rushes up through my brain, but I quickly move to find shelter behind one of the large blue backs of the armchairs.

What might they be thinking about when they look at me? Oftentimes I believe I can imagine, but on other days, like today, I question if I can be so sure of that. Stories spread and twist as they will, mostly to the worse, so maybe that's why their looks seem to get more judging as the month go by. And I'm in no place to correct them. I never was.

Still a bit stiff I lean into the soft leather. As usual, the picture to my left – a sword stuck inside a rock – is crooked again and I should probably offer to fix that sometime soon. Madeleine, the young waitress, hurries through the heavy swing door to get cake out of the oven, almost stumbling over her feet. Dina walks sure footed with several servings of cake balanced on her palm, the last one she gives out belonging to me.

She sets it on the table with a glass of fresh milk and I dig my nose into the smell of sweet pumpkin. Dina slips into the armchair opposite of the table, just waiting for me to start eating, which I do.

"I can't spare a lot of time now, but you can go up into the living room by yourself, if you like", she offers with as much of a smile as she is capable of, one of the few things we have in common.

"Thank you, but I'm going to train with Merrick later", I say, though it feels more like an excuse than stating a fact. I hate to decline her offer, although I know she's not offended. Yet, I feel obliged to apologise – she has done to much for me my entire life. "I'm sorry", I add.

Her eyes narrow and she leans in, fists clenched on the table. There's a glimmer in her eyes assessing me as she pushes herself up from the chair.

"Train well, then. And Amran: It's a good thing you're not at the Academy anymore."

* * *

**Jade Dove (18) **

**She would not recognise mercy**

* * *

At this point I expected Ashley would already have called to congratulate me. News travel fast in district two, especially if everybody is waiting for them. Even more so if they're concerning the Hunger Games.

Maybe she's coming over with cookies? At least that would explain her hours of silence. I imagine her face when I reveal to her the whole plan, which I made up completely by myself. Usually we do this stuff together, but she'll understand that she couldn't know, right?

Honestly, I'm going to explode if she doesn't know immediatley. Grabbing the phone I dial the familiar number and wait for the bleeping noise.

"This is Ashley, who's there?", she identifies herself and I laugh, since I'd recognise her voice anytime, everywhere. However tear-stained it may be. Wait, why does she even sound like this? I'll definetly ask that later. For now, the good news should cheer her up.

"I got the spot! I got the spot!" I squeal into the phone, relieved to finally be able to share my pride with someone.

"I know...but how did you get it? Why?"

"Well, the Academy just called, actually, they called a few hours ago, and they told me I'm the one to volunteer next week!"

"Wait, so you're telling me they just decided that? Without having the contest moved to another day? I mean, we all got the date wrong, so they should repeat it...", she gasps, her voice still thin, but much clearer than before.

"No! That wouldn't be fair to me, then. I was there, I showed them how good I am and that's the end of it", I explain. Can she finally take the hint, please?

There's a silence on her end, and a real sob, which she fails to hide.

"So you manipulated the selection. You told everyone the wrong date, isn't that it?"

"Yeah, I did. And you don't need to happy-cry for me", I say, trying to get the wink into my voice as much as possible.

"But you took away my chance too!"

Moving the phone away from my ear I stare at the dial. What does she mean? Her sudden screaming still rings in my head as I slowly move back into the conversation. No, she can not be angry with me, right?

"But I thought you think I deserve the spot? You said that and..."

"Hell, I did, but it sure didn't mean I was going to forfeit any chance to get it myself!"

"Okay, calm down Ashley. Breathe. Please don't be resentful about it. You weren't part of my revenge plan, you know that. I just thought since you wouldn't have a chance to get the spot over me anyway, I'd spare you the trouble. Also, I needed..."

"Argh! No! No...You needed attention. You needed success without someone endagering it!"

I flinch. How did that go so wrong so quickly?

"That is not..." "Bye!"

"...true", I finish, although the line is already dead. A terrible _beep, beep_ rings in my ears.

Here I am, sitting at my desk, phone in front of me and I really want to dial that number again. But I don't. Instead, I stand up and take all my strength. With a not at all satisfying sound it shatters on the wall.

Shit! Why would she not understand me? From the beginning we were partners in crime and now, on my glorious moment, she ruins everything. Why would she leave me like that? I worked so damn hard for this, she knows it! Was she like this all the time?

Struggling for air I tear open the window, taking in small, hectic gasps. I wipe through my face and find it wet, probably my skin is all red already. Quickly I turn to the human-sized mirror and yes, I was right. Tugging away a few strands of hair – luckily it's still a deeper red than my skin – I stare at my reflection.

No way am I going to let Ashley ruin what I have now. She can scream st me all she wants, but she is going to see that I'm right soon enough. Maybe it is all forgotten tomorrow morning. I will head down to her house and we will talk. She owes me an apology and I'm willing to give her the chance then.

* * *

**Amran Hibiscu (15) **

**He lives by their mercy**

* * *

_'It's a good thing you're not at the Academy anymore.' _She said the same thing last year, and the year before, yet I still don't know what it means. I'm not supposed to be uncomfortable to ask and would it concern any other topic, I probably already had. However, with the Games I know to be careful, nobody needs to be reminded of their darkest hours. If Dina wants to talk about it, I'll listen.

Over the year, I've come up with two possibilities. Of course, only members of the Academy are allowed to compete for a volunteer spot, which means that my chances after being expelled are basically down to zero. But I do still continue with training and am getting better and better. Afterall, this way every session is a private session and you don't get those often at the Academy. It could very well be that she believes I get the best preperation anyone could ever wish for, in a twisted kind of way.

He sets down his giant backpack

"Have you brought me some cake?" Merrick asks as a greeting and I shake my head at him. "Good. So I get to be healthier than you."

"One cheatmeal a week was fine at the Academy", I counter, though I know his answer wil be unforgiving.

"Fine, but not ideal. You know how a human body works, you should also know what that cake does to you. Now, grab your sword."

Grunting I obey, already imagining how my muscles are going to protest at the sudden demands they have to fulfill. As soon as my grip closes aroung the hilt, I hear the silent humming of Merrick's weapon swinging at me from behind.

I roll left and raise my sword to protect myself from the blow coming from above. Counteracting that force I push forward to gain space. It's my time to attack. I work quickly as I try to get one in, but Merrick has learned to dodge low and to late I realise he's going to blast my defense to pieces. One sharp movement up and my arms go flying.

"You're getting good with that", I acknowledge and drop the heavy weapon to the ground. To my surprise, Merrick laughs.

"No, no. I have always been god with that. I just thought this is the right time to show you. Now that you are so highly developed with the quick attacks, we can start learning some new techniques. You don't need to settle for those low strikes if you can use your surroundings."

With a deep breath I look up into his face, the sharp eyes of the victor smiling at me. He means well, I remind myself, no need to get angry at him. It always bugs me when he suddenly comes about revealing another secret, because why did he not teach me earlier if it's so important? No. I know why.

"Okay, show me."

"Haha, no hurry. Let's put our health first and warm up a bit more – those cold fights are not good for your muscles. Yet another thing to remember, should you ever be in the arena: If there's a fight coming, stay alert and stay warmed up. I don't care how ridiculous it looks when you have to stretch and shuffle on live tv."

The image that pops up in my head is way to lifelike for my taste. Well, most likely it won't come down to that anyway.

* * *

_Felicius Morrison, Director of "Fortunate Fortunes – Betting office"_

* * *

"It's up and running!" exclaims Laudius and I quickly get behind his desk to see the programme work.

"Finally. Now, get yourself some cookies, you're done for today", I say and he stares for a while, then gets up to gather his belongings. "Rosie! Come over here and upload our first betting data. Games season has officially started."

While she takes a seat and enters the data into the computer, I go through the papers once more. Well, it's the same as every year – why am I still checking? '_How many tributes will be volunteers this year?' _says the title and this is always an intersting one. Numbers have varied greatly in the past, as have the bets coming in via mail. I really can't wait to see how it turns out this year.

* * *

**Hi everyone, I'm here with the first of twelve character introductions! **

**But before I continue on about those, you might have noticed our first bet is open now! This is how it's going to work: **

**Everyone who wants to – no matter if you have a tribute or not – can send me their guess of how many volunteers there will be. This can be done either via PM or in a review. The **_deadline is __August 7__th_, **as I want to post the next chapter by then and I don't want anyone to have an advantage because they know more tributes. **

_The prize: 25 sponsor points._** Everyone who is right gets them. Should there be no one with the right guess, the person closest is the winner. You'll be informed about the results after introductions are done.**

**Back to the chapter, this one wasn't easy to write characterwise, but once I got into it I felt quiet comfortable again. I think the rust might have started to crumble and hopefully will be gone completely soon. **

**First of all, thanks again to the submitters, I hope I was able to do your tributes justice with this. **

**Second, you might have noticed a slight change, because just after I accepted both of them I realised there was some contradictory information. However, I'm positve the change will have no game-changing effect. If anything, It'll create more drama and that's a good thing, right? ;) **

**And last, what do you think of our tributes from District 2, everyone? Leave your opinions, if you like. Also, If you have any recommendations for me to improve my writing, I'd love to hear those, too. **

**Until next time!**


	4. Chapter 4 - District 11 Introductions

_10 Days before the reapings_

* * *

**Galvan Moss (18)**

**Mercy is a weakness**

* * *

"Edrick has been getting worse", Paxton says, while he sits up on the edge of the mattress.

His dark skin is sweaty, but he breathes steadily again. From my lying position I oberserve his small shoulders and their intruiging delicate shape. It's obvious he never worked in the fields or on the plantations, for most of the workers have a broader, more musular shape. Just like me.

"Stop talking about my brother, yes? It kills the mood", I comment on his asessment, lazily raising myself onto my elbows.

"Well, that's what I'm here for. And we already had sex, so what mood is there to kill?"

"Mine."

We get dressed in silence and I stretch my body to get back some of the energy I spent during the last half'n hour. Work...if it wasn't for work, I'd gladly spend some more time having fun like this. Mind you, it's probably best that's not an option. Paxton and I have done this quite often lately and we're both better off not getting attached to each other for real.

With a used beige cotton shirt and trousers of the same colour on, I walk to open the window and let in the already warm air. I breath, smelling something else than me and him, while running my fringers trough my thick black hair in order to make it somehwat presentable. I'm lucky in that way – it doesn't need extensive care.

Exiting my bedroom behind Paxton I expect silence, yet we are met with faint rustling and rasping coming from my grandfather's and brother's room. Quickly I push past and swing the door open, a queasy sensation accompaniying me. I find Edrick entangled in his bedsheet, pressed against the wall while he tries to free himself, yet none of this seems to wake my older brother up from his sleep.

I reach over to touch his shoulders, then carefully take his head between my hands to shush him. Almost immediatley I feel his body relax.

"What's wrong with him?" I give a questioning look to Paxton, not wanting to appear to worried, though I'm sure he knows how much I care for my brother anyway. Edrick always had some instances of sleeping disorder, as is common with most intellectual disabled people, yet it hasn't been that bad for quite a while.

"He senses the difference in schedule, that's all. As soon as the reapings are done and Chester is back to later work hours he will get back to normal in no time."

I narrow my eyes at him, but remind myself there is no use to it. Paxton should know, afterall he is a qualified nurse and we pay him a great deal for taking care of Edrick during the day. If it wasn't for him, I don't know what would have become of my brother.

And it makes sense what he says. With the Hunger Games approaching fast, our grandfather has extended his working hours and starts extremely early now and for the coming weeks. As an advisor in the mayor's office, he is involved in all plans concerning the reapings, as well as board and lodging of the capitol officials, additional peacekeeper contigents, and so on.

Of course he earns extra salary and at some point tried to convince me to follow in his footsteps. I remember the anger I felt back then – why wouldn't he leave me alone? I feel satisfied with my work in the fields. Surprise, surprise, something like that does exist. Truth be told, I just couldn't work with a bunch of different people of conflicting opinions, all the stressing, arguing, compromising.

Ditching those thoughts I stand up again and leave for the kitchen. It's a small room, yet two people can move around comfortably and so, I have no problem to reach my backpack on the dinner table. I place a box with slices of bread inside, the water bottle beside that and an apple on top. We don't get lunch at the fields, so everyone is responsible for their own meals. Easy for me, though not for some of the other workers – especially when they are new.

"Do you need anything for today? There's enough oatmeal and milk. Towels are washed just yesterday..." I go down the mental checklist as always.

"I'm fine", Paxton replies, not really listening, guessing from his tone. He's getting out dishes for him and Edrick to have breakfast.

"I need to be off", I say in his direction, then pick up my backpack and leave.

* * *

**Haru Ryuiji (12)**

**Mercy is a fantasy**

In the corner of the school yard I stand and wait for Georgie to meet me. Right after lessons have ended is a relatively safe time to be here, as most kids just want to get home as fast as possible. In the past I would have done the same, get away from all those terrible people, but since I have a good friend in him now, my parents gladly give me a few hours of freetime before I have to help in the shop.

I stop at my own thoughts, this labeling is so hard to get into my head. Him, them...luckily I only made that mistake while thinking and not speaking, because Georgie can get pretty upset about it. Non-binary is a concept I hadn't heard before we met, but it was easy to bond over the feeling of being different than everyone else here.

Though it's not as bad for Georgie, because obviously, his difference can't be seen on the outside. Mine, on the other hand, is obvious – with lighter skin than the usual District Eleven citizen, me and my family stick out like a sore thumb and that alone is reason enough lead a miserable life here. Everytime I think about it, it comes to mind that there must be a reason, but there seemingly isn't except for the fact that presumably we cam from another part of the world even before Panem existed. And that is so unbelievable far away for me.

It is not only because of the skin colour, though. '_Can you even see through those?' _the kid had asked and poked its' index finger right into my eyeball.

"Ough, there's so much homework to do...", Georgie pulls me out of my musings.

"Yep. It'll be easier to do them die by side", I agree and we start walking across the yard. Immediatley I notice my mood lighten a little – it's good to have a friend by my side.

We're only halfway around the school as Georgie stops and points to a bench underneath some shade-giving birch trees.

"Let's sit here."

With a doubtful expression I look up at them. For real? Immediatley I scan the yard for other kids and spot a group leaving through the gates, which are barely visible from here.

"I'd rather be somewhere not so public", I say.

"Why? Everyone is going home right now, this is the most private place I can think of. Also, I'd love to enjoy the weather a bit."

The way Georgie pleads with their eyes is terribly convincing. But what if someone sees us and decides to come over? Do they understand how real that possibility is for me? It's true though, that we haven't revealed all of our troubled life to each other, and I can't really blame them for it. I wouldn't want to drag anyone into that. Although...maybe if we were more...maybe we could fight back?

It's a stupid thought and I immedialtey scold myself for that – in a district where everyone is the same, we will forever be the unwanted minority.

So we sit and take out our worksheets from our backpacks. Math usually has the most rewarding assignments, logical and easily solved with some straight forward thinking. At least the teacher for that subject has no reason to scream at me.

The first few calculations go smoothly and soon my full attention is on a triangle and its' sides. That is, until my eyes catch blurred moving shapes nearing from the side.

A bunch of kids approach, all of them with the typical black skin, chatting and laughing and suspiciously looking over at Georgie and me. In an instant my skin starts to crawl and I swallow hard, laying the worksheet on the bench, putting the pencil on top of it so it won't get blown away, as I stand.

"Move your asses!" I shout, with my voice as loud and commanding as possible.

"What, are you forbidding us to sit here?" one of them calls back, a girl who is almost as tall as I am, though probably younger, judging by her face and the overall appearance of her friends.

"You can sit anywhere else, but you chose to sit next to us so you can stare? I won't have that, so move your asses!"

She takes a step forward and instictively I do the same, holding out my hand in a defensive gesture. The girls' eyes widen and she stumbles back, but manages to catch herself before her butt hits the stones. As she gets up she turns, shooting a glance over her shoulder, but gets back to her friends and they quickly leave us alone.

* * *

**Galvan Moss (18)**

**Mercy is a weakness**

* * *

It'll be hot today, though I fear the peacekeepers will still expect the usual work ratio – at least they'll too be turning into disgusting puddles of sweat underneath their uniforms. Already I feel the slong sleeves of my shirt sticking to my skin, but I know better than to try and losen it. It would only make things worse.

I move fast through the cobblestone streats, as usual, yet stop at some turmoil going on across the town square. An immense banner hangs between two pillars of the justice building. A strong, dark skinned boy on green background is shown, his victorious smile beaming down at the group of people who gathered beneath. He clearly is a Capitol model from his looks, which are too delicate, too symmetric for someone from here. '_An opportunity for the strong-willed' _it says in golden letters above his head.

The mob of adults talks with with angry voices, though I can't understand what they are saying over the distance. It's rebellious for sure and stupid as fuck, because we're in the centre of Capitol rule here – I glance over to the big clock, half past seven, the time at which peacekeepers switch their shifts.

The people don't seem to know, or care for that matter. One of them gestures wildly with his arms, making a ripping movement while shouting something of protecting his kids.

I shake my head excessively at their actions and decide to move on, picking up the pace to get away from that nonsense.

I don't need to see how the peacekeepers deal with them, and there's nothing to be done about it. They don't deserve a warning. If I started helping every poor soul I come across, I'd soon have to cancel my job and turn into the holy Samaritan. That would be ridiculous. I don't even know those people anyway.

Hateful people they are, all of them. They carry out pointless acts of rebellion and violence, only to whine about their terrible fates afterwards. What for? Everyone knows what happens, don't they? Just like my mother, just like my father – they were one of them. Stupid people, all of them.

I fall into a jog, the backpack rattling up and down, determined to get to the fields faster. I need something useful to do to keep me away from these thoughts.

Even if I tried to understand their motives' I wouldn't be able to. The Games aren't great, but except from that, if you work hard and abide to the rules, you're not in danger in District Eleven. There are jobs, there are , what is the chance of getting reaped out of thousands of kids? Almost everyone takes tesserae here anyway, so that doesn't even change a thing.

Only if you're a well off family, like mine, and don't have to take them, you have an advantage. I'm not as delusional as to claim my chances of getting reaped are zero, but what are they? Somewhere damn close to that.

Finally the large warehouse comes into sight and I slow down a bit. What a drama and that so early in the morning. Relieved that I'll have something useful to occupy my thoughts for the next twelve hours, I walk to check in with the peacekeepers.

* * *

***Trigger warning: This POV deals with sexual abuse**

**Haru Ryuiji (12)**

**Mercy is a fantasy**

* * *

After saying goodbye to Georgie I made it home safe and without trouble – a feat only reserved for the better days and I'm glad today is one of them. As usual I take my cousin Aika's place to help with the family business; a little store which sells floral medication.

"Good afternoon! With what can I help you today?", my mom asks the man who just entered our small store. He's tall, his dark hair neat just as everything else about his appearance, the typical profile of the few people who actually come here. They have enough money to buy medicine for their illnesses and we are the ones who provide it.

"I've been having stomach problems for weeks now. I heard you have something for that?"

"Oh, absolutley. If you could wait just a moment, my daughter will make you a mixture of herbs to make tea of."

I nod to her slowly and get to our storage and working room, though not without shooting another look at the costumer. Why isn't Dad here to keep an eye on her? She's all alone in the store with that man now.

I hurry to get out the fennel seeds, ginger and some lemon verbena and start with preparing each ingredient. All the while I try to watch as Mom shows some other medication to the man, a friendly smile on her lips. I know it's honest and wonder how she still does it.

Will I be in the same position someday? Is there any other option for me? I used to think, what will I do when my brother takes over the shop? He'd let me work here, for sure, but will I live with him here? Or will I have a family?

Now I wonder how I ever could have been so naive as to believe that possible. Hiruki will never be able to lead a business and we are lucky that he's still helping with mixing the medicine. It used to be fun with him, but now the only thing I can think of is how he came home that day, his clothes ripped, his nose bleeding and he didn't say a thing for hours. When he finally stuttered about how they had abused him, my world was crushed.

Afterwards, Dad came in to talk to me. He apologized for not sending me out the instance he realized what had happened, as if it was his fault somehow. I would have found out either way, but he wanted to protect me and to this day I hate to see the anger and hurt in his eyes.

Only later I realized how Hiruki had never used the r-word to describe it. I guess he couldn't and I, too, find myself strangled when I think about that.

Finally everything is mixed together and I pack it into tea bags in small portions. In a wooden box I bring everything over to Mom, probably not doing a great job at conceiling my emotions on my face, though I'm not really trying here.

"Here you go. That will be two Pans, please."

The man puts his hand into his pocket and I twitch, but he only pulls out the money and hands it over.

"Well, that's better be working. Bye", he says and gets out, leaving me with a sick feeling in my own stomach.

If it's not working, what will he do then? And why would it not – we are good in our field of work and gave him no reason to doub that – except for our different appearance, that is. Pressing my lips together get back to work, the same thoughts as always running through my head. I wish it had burnt down back then.

* * *

**Puh, I'm finally done with this one. It really was hard for me to write, since both characters come from troubled backgrounds and I really wanted to do them justice from the beginning. I even found it hard do decide which scenes to do for them, because there was too much that I thought was important to show. Now, I hope I made the right decisions. **

**As always, I'd love to hear from you in the reviews. What do you think of both of them? Also, I feel like this is kind of a dark picture painted of District 11 here – what are your opinions on that?**

**See you soon with the next chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5 - District 1 Intorductions

_1 Week before the reapings_

* * *

***Because we arent in the Games yet - Trigger warning: This POV contains Hunger Games related violence**

**Gnaeus Isselhardt (17)**

**They also teach him mercy**

* * *

It always bugged me that the Academy, a prime institution of our District, looks like a giant warehouse from the outside. Doesn't a place with such high prestige deserve everything from marble stairs to rich flower decor? Yet, I feel a strange sense of pride as I approach it and walk through the heavy front doors with ease.

The younger trainees are known for not being able to push them on their own and it's a prime joke among us older guys to make them try. And one by one they fail miserably. The timeframe which they need to figure out that it would be clever to do it as a group is usually quite telling.

"Good morning, Gnaeus", the secretary greats from behind her front desk and starts to rummage through a stack of paper and folders.

"Good morning, sunshine", I reply, taking my red folder and a pen from her and scroll through it till I find todays' date.

_Sleeping hours: 8  
__Perceived Fatigue: 6  
__Perceived Soreness: 5_

I jot down the numbers without thinking much about them, the standard procedure internalised in my mind, so that I always know exactly what to put. Pressing my finger on my radial artery I watch the clock ticking, slowly counting till a minute is over.

_Resting Heart Rate: 56_

I hand everything back to Diana and go straight for the boys locker room. After several days it still is a little spooky to find it empty, yet I start to feel the immense pride coming with that sensation. I am the only one allowed in here – everyone else will never come back, or is on forced training break because of me.

As I step into my sports pants I take a moment to assess my body in the mirror – we already talked about how that will be a main part of winning over the audience. Tall and muscular is always a neccessary feat to have and I'm lucky it doesn't require expert acting skills for me to be charming. What if they don't like my hairdo, though?

I laugh at myself as the thought crosses my mind. They won't just cut it, or will they?

Coach Splendor awaits me in the warm-up and cardio area of our training hall, a relatively small space packed with treadmills, step machines, mats and light dumbbells. Immediatley my mood lightens at the prospect of not having to run the quater of a mile track that goes around the hall. Two days ago I had to do ten miles in intervals, the constant pounding of the sprints hurting my feet quite a bit.

"I see you are feeling good today? Now, here is our agenda: An hour on the treadmill, go for a medium speed so you can still pay attention and talk to me. Afterwards we will do some prehab for your wrists, elbows, knees and ankles, you know the drill. Then actual training with the spear. I have prepared some example videos for during the warm-up and we will work on implementing the theoretical stuff into practice today. That should be sufficient to occupy us till noon, so a light four hours probably."

"Sounds good! What theory do we tackle?" I ask, already getting started on the treadmill with a slow pace of 5 miles per hour.

Just like the pervious days, everything sounds feasible so far and if that's all I need for the arena, then it will basically be a walk in the park. I know how they always say '_it's not that simple', _yet the physical part at least is something I can be relaxed about. And it isn't like I'm not prepared for all the other obstacles I will need to face.

"I call it 'intelligent killing', which means we will look at examples from previous Hunger Games, as well as revisit some general rules for your kills in the arena."

Splendor does not look at me while he explains, instead he sets up a big projection screen and sorts through video cards. My feet keep moving on autopilot and I wonder how close I was to becoming just like him in the future. Who did get second choice this year? I can imagine Citrin or Bonus, though that usually doesn't get revealed to the public until next season. One of them will become a coach here, as is usual for the runner-up, a consolation prize, though I guess it takes time to appreciate it.

I think of my brother Fitore at home, a prime example of how frustration can take you over, especially since he has to do everything in his power now to give young children the opportunity he never got. I break my form to run my fingers through my hair, warm gratefulness once again filling me for not being in this place. I am the one who earned that honor and I will not disappoint anybody. I pick up the pace with a smile.

The screen comes alive with the Capitol logo and the anthem is played. Geeze, what is this rhythm? I try hard to pay the demanded attention and stay on track with my running, relieved when the music finally fades out.

"Now, for your task. I'll show you a video from the Games and you tell me if it is a good kill or not."

On a clearing surrounded by woods, a slender female tribute looks up at the sun, holding her face and hands right into the warm rays of yellow light. She is obviously cold and in dire need to normalize her temperature. The camera zooms out and a group of three other tributes comes into view, hiding on the edge of the treeline, their build and heavy weapons indicate that they are careers, just like I am.

This will be a good one. Even the way how the girl lifts up her spear is technically flawless, controlled bodyline and steady posture. She strikes out and throws, the weapon swishing through the air and it hits, right into the tributes stomach.

Splendor pauses the video and waits for my asessment.

"Great one. She took her time to aim and hit" I say, a smug smile on my face as I know this is how I was taught as well. Splendors' face falls, though, and I frown in confusion.

"Have you knocked out all your braincells with wrestling yesterday? She hit her in the guts, Gnaeus! Now what could be wrong with that?" He lifts his arms theatrically and now I feel mocked, biting down on the inside of my cheek. Heat arises inside me, though I'm not sure if it's anger or embarassment.

"Nothing. It's not the best spot, but it'll kill her, so...I don't know" I churn out, the last words almost physically painful and I concentrate on my legs to keep moving the treadmill.

"It is a bad spot, especially with such a clear and easy shot. She could have easily killed the other tribute within seconds, but instead she chose the widest target and made things a whole lot more complicated." He switches the video back on.

The outlier tribute gasps and writhes in pain, her hands clasp around the spear in an instant. Without much thinking she pulls and screams and I look away in realization. I don't need to see how she dies, bleeding out and struggling to keep inside her body what belongs there.

"Suck it up, boy. You better be ready for that, because as you would see if you weren't a pussy covering her eyes, not everybody is able to make a humane kill. Or wants to, for that matter. "

He can't be serious. I swallow and look up nonetheless, my teeth gritted. Luckily, Splendor turns off the screen after a few seconds. Why did he feel the need to show me this?

"So, okay, I didn't get you wanted to make that point about targeting, but I already know to go for the heart. We trained that over and over again."

"Ah. And I only ever want you to kill like that, understand? The spear is a prime weapon for clean kills and you'd do good to show you have that skill. The Capitolites love someone who knows what he's doing, a bloody show is not appreciated as much as you think. Keeps you sane, too."

"But the Games are made to kill people. There are many tribute who make a show out of it." I inquire while I try to remember a specific example to prove my point. Not that I want to handle it like the careers in the video...

"Killing people is not the same as killing them with senseless brutality. If you look back, the only times when a cruel death is received well by the audience is when they had some kind of vendetta against them. So, better don't make them hate you for torturing their favourite."

I nod, that does make sense. Somehow, I now feel relieved from a worry I didn't know I had at all. Just do the job. I can handle that, like a walk in the park.

"Now, lighten up, kid. I've got a few good ones coming up and some funny ones as well. I just wanted your attention, see if you were awake", he winks, all the urgency and anger gone.

* * *

**Eleanor Prada (18)**

**Why would we need mercy?**

* * *

With legs resembling the consistency of my grandmothers' vanilla pudding, I'm more than thankfull for the day off from training. Still, those starirs up to the marketplace want to be climbed and I use the handle on the sides to pull myself up, an assistance direly needed. Not that my arms were in any better condition – It's just easier with the stain shared over the whole body.

What would it look like if District ones' chosen girl fails at such an trivial everyday task? I can only hope that my body will recover for the shared training session tomorrow with my soon-to-be District partner, Gnaeus.

My little sister looks down at me, already up on top, her well trained figure patiently waiting.

"I don't believe I've ever been that sore in my life.. Do you think the coaches don't push me enough or am I not working as hard as you?" she calls down, pressing her index finger onto her lips.

I take the opportunity to pause as I consider my answer for a moment.

"You know, you can always work harder on your own", I remark, winking at her, although I'm not sure if she can see it.

With another accumulation of willpower my legs start to move again, bringing me up the last ten steps. They shake and shiver underneath the weight of my body, yet I grit my teeth to convince myself that it's not a good idea to sit down now.

"I sure won't miss that."

"Say what?" Dolce laughs, her cheeks glowing from the make-up I did for her this morning.

"Well, but I will enjoy watching you go through the same torture."

"Hm", she makes. "Do you feel okay now? Can we go see the dresses?"

"Sure thing", I answer, still moving unsteady, but the thoughts of pretty fabrics and rhinestones weaken my agony significantly.

The familiar shop windows of "Cordelias' Dress Palace" become visible from afar as we cross the market place, bright lights there to highlight the bedazzled dresses inside. There's no time like reaping time, because only then the prettiest creations are available to us, made to impress even the Capitol.

It's one of only four shops licensed to sell reaping dresses and the closest to our home near the outside of the District, from where Dad manages a gold mine and its' workers.

Dolce sprints to be first at the door and opens it with a little to much enthusiasm, but quickly catches it again and holds the heavy thing open for me. Immediatly I'm overwhelmed by the view, same as every year. Rows upon rows of dresses are lined up here, they go on forever in all colours and forms imaginable.

A girl around my age emerges out of nowhere and adjusts her ponytail, her eyes big as she studies me from shoes to hairdo. I give her a smug smile, knowing that she recognizes me. I never thought it would be so satisfying to be known by everyone, but it is.

"Good afternoon! You must be Miss Prada, is that right?" she asks and I nod.

"Yeah, that's right. I'm here to look at my choice of reaping dresses. Can you go and get Cordelia for me?"

"Oh, sure. Just a moment."

As the assistant walks away with her dull brown ponytail flapping on every step and I let out a breath of air.

"She could use a more interesting haircolour, don't you think?" But Dolce has vanished somewhere between the dresses and I press my lips together in disapprovement. We came here for my outfit, didn't we?

I call her name and move a few steps, while my heart starts to flutter as imagination runs away in my thoughts. How much of my requests did they consider? I gave quite a lot of input on what I want, however the final order is a matter dealt with by my mentors. They narrow it down to two choices, so it already fits the angle and is in line with current Capitol trends.

Dolce finally is back beside me, just in time.

Cordelia is a middle-aged woman with the typical blonde hair and blue eyes and it's easy to see that she earns a good amount of money with her business. The round hips and pads on her stomach, broad shoulders and skilfully applied make-up make for an impressive appearance. However, it is her who courteously lowers her head as she greats me.

She carries two garment bags in her right hand and waves for us to follow her to the fitting area. There is a suddly sofa on which my sister immediatley makes herself comfortable, several life-size mirrors and a changing room shielded by heavy red curtains.

"Show me!" I demand as soon as Cordelia sets down both bags, unwilling to wait a moment longer to find out what I will look like on the biggest day of my life.

She unzips the first one and holds up a cocktail dress, made out of a flowing, rosegold fabric. Rhinestones provide some necessary liveliness on the collar, but otherwise this one is pretty tame. The secone dress impresses me more. Cut similar to the first, it seems to be slightly tighter and is of pale gold, with the back free and golden sprials all over the skirt.

I'm in love.

"The second one! I want to try that on."

"Yeah, I thought so. We wouldn't want you to wear that insignificant other thing. Yo strike me as one who knows her Game well."

"I sure do", I say and grab the dress, going straight for the changing room. It is big enough to undress comfortably and I find the cut of that dress is made to fit me perfectly. Yes, this definetly give the right impression and the whole of Panem will see me wearing it.

"Oh my, you look gorgeous in that!" Dolce swoons as soon as I step out from behind the curtain. I know why I wanted to take her with me.

"I agree. Your dark hair gives a good contrast."

"An everyone can see your muscles, too!"

I take a last look into the mirror, than nod to myself. "I won't even try the other one. This is it."

"Alright, then please change back and I will pack it up for you."

I obey and Cordelia walks away, leaving me alone with the adrenaline rush that now comes at me as I think of the reapings drawing nearer and nearer.

"So, after the Games, can I come live with you in the victors village?" Dolce asks while we sit on the soft sofa and wait for Cordelia to return with the boxed dress and invoice. I groan at the prospect of having to carry that all the way to the Academy today. While we do not need their funding, all expenses for the selected volunteer are usually covered and it is a honor one can not reject.

"Of course not!" I remember to answer my sisters question.

"Why? Do you think I'm annoying?"

"That's not it. You don't deserve to live in the victors village, unless you are a victor. The name isn't for nothing, so if I'm going to win, only I can live there."

"But don't other victors take their families?"

"Yes, some do. But see, I plan to be my own person and I plan to get married someday. Should I kick you out then? If you want to be in the victors village, you need to win your own Hunger Games in a couple of years."

In that moment Cordelia gets back to us, a sealed box with an enevlope attached to it in hand. I struggle to push myself out of the pillowed sofa, but my face remains calm and proud as I take it from her.

"Here you go, Miss Prada. May the odds be ever in your favor!"

"They are!" I call, already turned towards to door, Dolce rushing forward to open it for me again.

* * *

**Third introduction already! I actually wanted to spread out the career Districts a little more, but I totally felt like doing D1 and here it is. I hope my research helped to make the chapter feel realistic and do both Gnaeus and Eleanor justice.**

**What do you think of them?**

**I'm aiming for one chapter a week right now, so see you next thursday :)**


	6. Chapter 6 - District 5 Introductions

_Three Days before the reapings_

* * *

**Kitana Olivier (17)**

**She has no mercy**

* * *

The clock ticks point twelve noon and Archie is not here. Is he late? Has something happened to him? School was out early because of the upcoming reaping tomorrow and we both went home to have dinner with our families. He said he would be here by twelve.

_There is no other girl he could go to now. No one who would even remotely be a challange. Do you remember? You're the reason why. _

I do and the memory immediatley makes me wince. Not because of the high pitched screams or the fresh blood, but because of what came afterwards. The constant cold breath I imagined down my neck, peacekeepers sniffing around the whole of District five, a threat to execute whoever was guilty.

"Shut up!" I demand and breathe out in relieve at the successful silence in my head that follows.

Mother is at work, her job as a secretary in the mayor's house more stressful than ever around this time of the year. Airi has left a few minutes ago to meet a friend and I have been all alone since then. My ears barely take notice of the constant tapping noise, yet I know it is there as my fingerstips drum onto the kitchen counter. It never ceases, the sound of my loneliness.

_Like a princess waiting for her prince._ Well, that's a bit to much, no? No, probably not, but a assasine princess, if it must be that way. Considering the things I have done to be with my Archie, I cannot be anything less than that. Because normal princesses are innocent.

Ding! In an instant my gaze shoots up, muscles tense as I move to answer the doorbell. Finally, he is here. I press the button to open the main door and take a deep breath. Half a minute until he is up the stairs.

I losen my stern face, forming my lips into a smile and blink a few times to make sure there isn't a glint of frenzy left in them. Then I grab the doorhandle and push it open, leaning into the frame.

Archie comes into sight with a big, joyful expression on his own and my heart almost falters as he lightens up seeing me. I can't help myself, my feet already move and make me throw myself at him.

"Woah, Kitana!" he laughs, but I shut him up, my lips longing to touch his. They taste sweet and cold as he kisses back, satisfaction finally rushing through my veins.

"I missed you", I tell him honestly, as if he couldn't guess that.

"That's obvious. Now, can I come in and have a glass of water?"

I make room for him to pass me and close the door to quickly follow him back into the kitchen. He sits down on one of the stools, though I notice his shoulders are quite tense today.

"Are you okay?" I ask, anger building in my chest at anything or anyone who would make him feel stressed.

"Yes, just a little nervous. I wanted to tell you in school, but there was no time. I have a job interview at the solar plant." He grins and my anger fades, yet my thoughts start to rush uncontrolably.

"So what is the deal with that?" I bring out a clear question, face still relaxed.

I set the glass down in front of him and give him a hug from behind, waiting for his answer.

"If it goes well and I live through the reaping I can start right next week! It's in half an hour, though, so I need to leave after I finish this..."

_Make him stay. He has no right to leave you alone like this. _

"What? That is not enough time with you...you know I deserve more"

It is hard this time to keep my voice even and harder again that he teasingly shakes his head. _But you had a fixed meeting._ My arms wrap around Archies chest tighter in response, though not as tight as I wish to.

"Also, please don't talk about the reapings like that. I worry about you enough already...so no negative thoughts. Not even possibilities" I say, like a good girlfriend would do.

In truth, I've been through the process of abnormally worrying about him four times already. If my eyes were lasers like they have in District three, the wall of my room would have burnt out of existance. If it wasn't that the justice bulding is so heavily guarded by peacekeepers right now, his tickets would have mysteriously vanished out of the reaping bowl. But he does not know this.

"Ah, I wasn't saying I'm scared. Really, Kitana. And you know, I worry about you just as much."

Archie turns around to kiss me again and I lean into him, joyful in the moment. As he breaks away I can see it in his eyes, he wants to go to that job interview. _Make him stay, at any cost. _If I do that, though, he will not want to be my boyfriend anymore. And I cannot have a forced relationship. It would rip my heart to pieces, I know it.

"You know, you can always postpone it?" I try one last time, but is a weak attempt, exactly like the nice Kitana would make.

"No, really. I need to leave now."

Archie wiggles out of my grip and I reluctantly follow him to the door. Already the pain in my chest grows, but I make myself ignore it. You would think it gets easier over time, but it doesn't. Quite the opposite, actually.

"Do I see you tomorrow?" I ask, relieved after he nods, but then he's gone and I stand frozen for a moment until I manage to close the door behind him.

All alone. Hot tears start to stream into my eyes and run down my cheeks as my fingers dig into the unforgiving metal door. "No. Why?" I only now realise that I've spoken out aloud, though I'm not surprised. All alone.

_Go after him. _But I know I can't do that. In this state it is obvious I'm not my usual self. Losening my grip I turn, quick steps down the hall, bum, bum, bum, into my room. _Go after him. _

"That's not helpful!"

_Would it help to make sure he doesn't get the job? _But then Archie would be unhappy and I can't have him be unhappy. I'd rather make sure that he gets the job and is happy. _You won't see him a whole lot if he has long shifts. _

Airis' bed on the right side, mine on the left, I hurl onto it and lay on my back. One crack on the ceiling, two cracks on the ceiling.

"If he gets the job, we can marry and move in a house together." I whisper as the thought crosses my mind, now wearing a victorious smile. _That is indeed an alluring prospect._ Tap, tap, tap, make my fingers against the the metallic bedframe.

* * *

**Connor DuPlessis (15)**

**Mercy is a luxury**

* * *

The merchant section is buzzing with people in the afternoon, running from store to store, carrying heavy bags and backpacks with them. Everyone who has enough money to buy their stuff here, does, since the market on the Districts' other side is truly disgusting. I was there once, but didn't dare to touch a thing.

I walk past the grocery stores and clothing shops, aiming for the small business selling office supplies. As far as I know Mr. Darrington is the only one who sells that here, things like pencils and paper, 'cause few need that stuff outside of school, where we get the necessary amount handed for free. They want us to learn, but no more than they see fit, so even if I was frugal I'd still not have more than a piece of paper left for personal use.

That's also the reason why prices are way to expensives. Oh well, the little luxuries you treat yourself to in life.

The familiar room is stacked with goods, messily sorted, if that makes sense. But I know my way around and head straight for the pencils. I search my pants pocket for the note I made and find it neatly folded into half. It tells me that I need a really thin 9H and a middle grade H, so I kneel down to burrow through the masses thrown together in one box.

Successfull, I move on to grab ten pieces of paper and a new rubber, which is considerably easier and I lay out the stuff onto table. He examines it closely and I still believe he suspects that I'll one day steal something. Theft is nothing unusual here, but I'm not one of those reckless people. I have work, I have no need for that.

"Good morning, boy. That's five Pans", he finally says after counting twice.

"Good morning. Thanks." I already have to money ready and hand it to him, my pockets now empty. Good. They love to steal money, it's easier, but grabbing a bag right out of my hand. That's harder.

"Good luck!" Mr. Darrington shouts after me as I leave.

I sigh. The reapings are in everyones mind, even of those who aren't in danger themselves and don't have anyone to fear for.

I try not to worry that much. There's nothing I can do anyway, despite not signing up for tesserae. It's the only thing you can do and even then it's only of small effect. Everyone gets tickets in the lottery, so everyone could be picked to die.

After another twenty minutes of walking the hydroelectric dam comes into view and into hearing distance. It must be Mill who stands at the corner to Dam Road, the guy is always early. I raise my hand and wave to him, get a wave back, then we look past each other uneasily for the minute it takes me to reach him.

"Hi, Mill."

He greats back, smiles, and we share little everyday things while we wait for the other two to arrive. Arthur and Light are neighbours, so they come together, just five minutes after me. That went well – usually at least one of us gets delayed for some reason.

Even from that far away miniature drops of water sprinkle down on our group and leave cool spots on my skin, but not enough to effectively work against the heat of the afternoon sun. I wipe away some sweat from my forehead and sit down on the roadside, from where most of the dam is in in good view.

"Don't 'ya want to hike up?" Light asks, while the others already make themselves comfortable as well.

"It's to late, we won't make it."

"We could manage to go halfway", Mill speculates, but I shake my head.

"Nah, that's not worth it."

"So we stay down here? Fine with me, I'm done with the world anyway"

"Yeah, why not? We can sit and watch the water."

"Wow, such an interesting thing to do..." Light comments, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Would'ya rather go swimming?" I suggest in a serious tone and point to the gushing masses, which would obviously drown everyone within seconds.

"Sorry, it's not my style to swim against the stream."

"Nice one, you two", Arthur compliments and gets backlash immediatley.

"If you point to it, it ruins the joke."

After that we just sit for a while, nobody has any big news to tell. I can't help myself but to marvel at the pure force of nature before my eyes. It doesn't loose it's fascination. I never dared to draw the dam, though. 'Cause of the details, white and blue and gray tones mixing, but also the spume and constant flowing of the water are extremely complex. And if I start, I want to do it justice.

"So ..., why are you done with the world? What did it do to you?" Mill breaks the quiet and rips me out of my thoughts, linking back to what Arthur said earlier.

I wish he hadn't, because of course there is one obvious thing that can weigh down everyone who's right in their mind these days. But here we are, and a conversation like this seems unavoidable every year.

"I always think, it's super unfair that the careers get to train and everyone else doesn't. Basically, if you're reaped, you're dead no matter what."

"That's not true."

"Also, you won't get reaped."

"The rules about not training are loose anyway. As long as work quotas are met, the peacekeepers don't care if I pick up a sword at the blacksmith's shop" I put in my thoughts and shrug.

"Well, you work there, it's simple for you to do." Light counters.

"You got t' see it like this: weapons is never everything. Fine if you can wield one, but if you don't have strategy..." Mills starts, but is cut off by Arthur.

"Thanks, guys. But I'll just have to not think about the next few days."

Time passes fast and soon Mill stands up from the ground where we were sitting. The others join him and we say goodbye after I told them that I want to wait till my father gets off work.

He is a common worker at the Dam and I might as well use the opportunity to walk home with him together. We might be able to guess what Granny Gloria has cooked for dinner – though she varied her usual plan in the last few month. Maybe it's because she forgets what should be next. Maybe she just wants something new in her life.

I stand up and stretch to get the stiffness out of my body, searching for the figure of my father in the group of men who start pouring out of the doors right now.

* * *

**Ooof, as soon as I set a date for updates, I fail to make it. Great. I'm really sorry, but I hope you can forgive me.**

**Both Kitana and Connor weren't easy for me, though I think I'm okay with how the chapter turned out in the end. I hope I could protray them like they submitters imagined them. **

**There's not a ton left to say, just that I would really appreciate some feedback! Good or bad, I'd love to hear from you in the reviews. **


	7. Chapter 7 - District 10 Introductions

_One day before the reapings_

* * *

**Mira Gesby (14)**

**She thinks she chooses mercy**

* * *

Jackpot! This one must've had a creative streak when hiding his cash box. Nontheless, in the end I crack all the riddles and so, gently lift the heavy white treasure out of the toilet tank. Climbing down from the marble lid I then sit down on it, giving myself a wide smile through the class of the shower cubicle. This month we will live in luxury. Maybe not as much as this household, but it should be enough for some big spendings. Star-thief Mira at your service.

Ice cream, I think and decide to put some money away for that purpose before I hand it to my family. They'd never allow me to waste it on such 'nonsense'. Afterall, those kinds of food aren't as easy to steal as, say, animals, for fresh meat. We have a lot of that and despite my mothers' preachings about how we should be thankful to be able to fill our bellies, I can't quite chum up with the diet. There needs to be some variation.

_Click. _The way to loud noise makes me jump and I realise too late what was my mistake. The damn bathroom door! I shoul've locked it! I jump to my feet, not taking the time to look at my persuer, and instead head to the window. It's the first floor and a fall would be easy to absorb, but when I grap the handle with my free right hand, it doesn't move. No. No, no, no.

I feel the tight grip on my shoulder and freeze, knowing I'm in no way strong enough to get out of it. It's the grip of a person who has caught thieves like me his entire life, but I didn't consider a peacekeeper to get home early when I sneaked into his house this afternoon. A bitter taste builds in my mouth, I just wanted payback, now it's unfair that I couldn't get it. When I slowly turn around, a sharp pain strikes. Suddenly the floor is close, as I dangle uncontrolled on the strap of my top. Not only do they destory innocent lifes with their obsessive capturing of thieves, but they are violent when it's totally unnecessary. The burning on my cheek intensifies, but I don't have time to cry about it.

"Look at me!" the man commands and I make sure to regain my confidence before I follow his orders. He frowns as soon as he sees my tongue sticking out at him and I almost manage to lick his face. Urgh, that'd be gross! A slight giggle escapes at the thought, which the peacekeeper doesn't find funny at all.

He still wears his uniform, minus the helmet, so he must've come home from work only moments ago. Shaking his head he rips the cash box from me, which I still clutched tightly until this point. His face twitches in anger, the dark brows furrow.

"Did you really want to steal all that?! You scum have gotten cocky, way to much for my taste!" he spats and moves his grip from my shoulder to my hands – at least he tries. Quickly I pull them away and grin in triumph, but just then he is successful on the second try. As he pulls me up and drags me down the stairs, I realise how tall he is, even for a grown man. I barely reach up to his waist line.

I know what comes next. He'll take me to the market place and then I'll be publically whipped. It's what they do to thieves here. And though my heart starts to beat heavily, I try not to panic. It can't be that bad, right? Many people get whipped here. I've never seen it happen, but they all come back alive and they all go back to stealing, too. It can't be that bad, can it?

He drags me down the stairs, not bothering with my struggles, which I make just because I can and they'll annoy him. My eyes widen at the sight of the car parked in the back of the house – woah! I never thought I'd drive in one one day. The excitement might be a little out of place given the situation, but wow, what a treat!

Through the mirror in the front I can the the peacekeeper stare in anger and the speeds through the streets, making me jump up and down involuntarily. When he asks for my name I hesitate...should I give him a fake? But tomorrow is the reaping, so he'd probably be able to look it up if he wants to.

"Mira Gesby," I answer truthfully, though with a taste of bitterness on my tongue.

As we arrive at the justice building I peak through the window and suddenly my heart lifts – they won't be able to do anything to me here! Several cars and other machines stand around and people are hard at work building up the stage for the reaping. I grin and put my hand in front of my mouth, holding back a giggle. Instead, I get busy twirling a strand of my hair.

"Get out!" the peacekeeper yells with a harsh undertone after he abruptly stopped the car.

Are we going in, really? They never do that...or is to because I'm a child? But no, they don't make a difference between children and adults, do they? When Alicia took me with her for the first time, she told me that. She told me I had to be just as careful as she was. And now I wasn't. It's what bugs me most, out of everything in this situation, that I let my big sister down and she'll worry until I can get home safe.

I've never seen it from the inside, yet maybe I can use this as an opportunity. Wouldn't it be grand if I stole something from the mayor himself? I could upgrade my status to something cooler, then.

The peacekeeper grabs me again and because he walks quickly, I struggle to keep up. I notice expensive carpet, several paintings and photographs, bright electric lights, some decor standing around. It's too much to take in and before I know it, he has me locked up in a small room and told me to wait.

I look around, but there really is nothing in this room. A wooden chair, a small table of the same material and a clock on the wall, which reads quater past six. Reading the time...one of the most useless skills we learn in school here, because seriously, who is able to afford such a thing? Who needs to know exactly what minute of the day it is? It's stupid and those things aren't even pretty.

While I watch the hands wander over the dial my fingers knock on the table every time a second passes.

"This is the room," someone says and footsteps come nearer. Immediatley I stand up, unsure what to do and how to behave. My heart pounds against my chest – I've never been in a situation like that.

The peacekeeper brought company, the mayor – a grim looking young man who looks like he didn't get any sleep the last few nights. His eyes narrow down on me and he sighs.

"Listen, girl. We don't have time for the common people acting up when the capitol puts all it's attention on the districts. They either need to see none of it or that we take harsh action against any crime we come across."

I want to sigh, since I can't stand that he thinks I want to hear a whole speech about this. Can he get to the point already?

"Therefore, I give you two choices. Either be executed right on the spot, or volunteer for the Hunger Games tomorrow."

His face shows only tiredness as he says it and I search for something in it, but can't find anything. This can't be over now. Time must have passed since he said that sentence, but I'm still working on finding a logic in it. This can't be...Some unusable jibberish runs through my mind. Run. Quick. I feel my body twitch, but at the same time am frozen on the spot.

My dead body on the floor, if I don't say something right now. I shake at the image in my head.

After gasping like a fish dying fish for several times, I hear a strange voice, which sounds like mine say:" I'll volunteer."

* * *

**Meat Lucher (16)**

**What's mercy?**

* * *

I bang open the doors of the cooling chamber, Grass walking out behind me. End of work is the best time of the day and especially now I can't wait to get out of those bloody clothes. Not that I don't like the butcher job, but if no fresh blood is there to keep the apron moist it starts to stick. Gross.

There's a washing room right here and first thing me and my brother do is throw the soaked clothes into a corner. Mom will be furious about it. She'd like us to put it into a laundry box, but that's not gonna happen. My clothes stacked with common worker clothes...no way! She's find something else to be furious about, even if we did that.

"Geeze, I need to find a girl to warm me up tomorrow. This this is getting colder and colder," I complain.

"It's just the heat difference. We've got a warm summer at hand – I bet we can hold the party out on the streets." Grass grins as he turns on one of the showers. "Also, isn't Maurice coming over? You told her she needs to help with preperations, right?'" he adds.

I shrug and finish washing my face at the sink. "Might as well cuddle a dead pig. I do it all the time, it's boring."

Once we are clean again, I walk out into the sunshine to let it dry my skin, wearing nothing but underwear. It's our backyard, so sadly no one will get the pleasure of seeing me almost naked today, but I'm willing to change that for any pretty girl who comes to Grasse's party tomorrow. An _We-survived-the-reaping-party_ and I'm really interested to see who will be there. Because those things are more fun the larger the crowd, Grass talked about inviting even a few of the poor scum – something I expressed my utter dismay at.

They tend to come in big groups, they aren't trustworthy and worst of all, begrudge our high status. They steal and rampage. Better keep an eye on them and make sure they don't just come for the food and alcohol.

"C'mon, get dressed already. I want to start with a inspection!" Grass jumps me from behind and waves some fresh clothes around.

"Don't you think I look better like that?" I ask.

"Yeah, sure." He pushes them into my face and I need to grab them so they won't fall into the dirt.

As I get dressed I smugly notice how the fabric is tense over my biceps. Yeah, lifting dead pigs does some serious good to my body. Everybody should do it, but no one does, apparently – I bet even the careers don't.

I follow my brother into the house, which is right next to the butchery, one of the few brick buildings here in District ten. It stands two floors high, with the kitchen, living room and office room downstairs and our bedrooms as well as the bathroom upstairs. I jog up and find Grass kneeling in front of his bed, the bedcase wide open and a piece of paper beside him.

"I'll count the bottles, you write," I decide and pick up a pen to hand him, but receive only a raised eyebrow.

"No way, little brother. My stuff and I can't have you take a sip for every bottle you 'count'," he inquires, shaking his head.

"Better I drink it than those scrawny figures from the farms. I bet most of them are wasted after a single shot."

Which would be a good thing. Geeze, I really hope one of them is pretty. I need someone to fuck, better yesterday than today, and it's way easier to manage when that someone is half unconscious from alcohol.

"I promise I won't drink now," I add, because Grass still doesn't take the pen and paper. He sighs in response and finally makes way, a faint smile on his lips.

"There you go."

We switch places, me kneeling down in front of the bed and Grass on the desk, ready to take notes. There are several bottles of different liquids, though most of it is vodka, of course. It's the cheapest to get and even with our families' riches, good stuff like fine whiskey is a rare treat.

I've always wondered why none of us has made an attempt to befriend ... for this. With the largest butchery in ten, we are one of the wealthiest people here, so we're worthy of the victors' friendship. However, they have never approached us – they can't be jealous as well, right?

"Ten and a half bottles of vodka," I count and line them up beside me. "One whiskey, three selfmade herb liquor."

"Alright, sounds good for the hard stuff. We should get some beer. I'll take the carriage."

"Hmhm. You plan to get the TV down for reaping recaps?" I ask with a grin – since this is a _we-survived-the-reapings-party_ we should do something to du the motto justice.

Grass shrugs and I take it as agreement, because he doesn't say otherwise. As soon as he is gone to ready the horses, the doorbell rings and I have to go downstairs to take it.

"Maurice...! Your late – now you're useless," I ascertain and cross my arms over my chest.

"Oh," she makes and looks down at me, then collects herself to bring out at least a something understandable. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, always sorry afterwards. You can come in, though, there's still homework I need to do. Can you believe they make us do that even over reaping time?"

"That's not fair. Do you want me to help you, so it'll get done quicker?" she asks while coming in and closes the door.

"Yep, let's do that."

I let her pass me and use the opportunity to slap her butt, which makes a satisfying sound. Pity that she doesn't wear something sexier, but it'll do for today. She's nice, she's willing, she's hot – I can't complain. We walk upstairs and I spread out my homework on the desk, hand us both a pen and we get started.

* * *

**Mira Gesby (14)**

**She thinks she chooses mercy**

* * *

They let me walk home on my own and for the first few minutes, I fell unsually shaky. The Hunger Games...I have never thought about them much, at least not in that way. Me in them...no. The stealing is what keeps me save, so neither I nor my siblings needed to take tesserae. It's all turned around now.

Several times I sneak a look over my shoulder, ensuring that they don't follow, because they could always decide otheriwise, couldn't they? People in power tend to do that. Blinking, I try to concentrate. They won't do it. All that counts now is that I barely escaped death, and that must be worth something.

As I get closer to home, the houses start to look familiar and more welcoming than those gigantic brick buildings of the rich people. I try a smile and it works, relieve washing through my veins, making me more of my usual self again. I'm safe. Nothing to worry about. My head hurts a little, but otherwise I'm fine.

Staying on the side of the mud road I let my eyes wander around, though it's unsuccessful as can be. Everyone is home in the evening. When I finally reach home it's already nightfall and I quickly walk in, dissapointment filling me as I realise it does not smell like they left any food for me.

"Mira! Oh thank god, you're home!" screams my mother right after I shut the wooden door, and before I can even move, I'm entangled in a hug by her and my sister. I let it last for a while, feeling the soothing warmth of their bodies, but then I remember: I'm not the hugging type. Wriggling myself out I gain some space to breathe, wondering why all I want to do is get back into those arms again. While Alicia steps back, mom kneels down to my height and grabs my chin.

"Where have you gotten that horrible bruise?" she asks, half in shock and half angry. Immediatley the burning sensation from earlier comes back and my hand shoots up to touch the skin. Now it feels thick, like my cheek has grown several inches. It's disgusting, but interesting at the same time.

"I had a fist fight with a kangaroo", I claim with a wide grin.

"No. I want you to be serious now, girl! We all worried here and you don't joke with me about that. What happened?"

"Well...you can probably view it as my first training session for the Hunger Games then..." I start and stop again at the deep furrows appearing on mom's face, making her look distressed like I've never seen her before. But she stays silent, obviously waiting for an explanation. Why is it so hard to speak those words? It was an easy decision in the justice building. Suddenly I'm shaking again, just like I did when they wanted to... you know. But this isn't death, right? I escaped that when I chose to volunteer.

It takes all my concentration to speak, but somehow I manage.

"They caught me stealing...then they made me volunteer tomorrow..."

Did I look like this back in the justice building? I might have. Unsure what to do now I sit back down on the sofa and wait. At least that choice gives me one extra day to think everything through, right?

* * *

**I'm punctual! Despite me thinking this would be a hard chapter to write, it went down quite smoothly. While I feel good about Mira, I'm having my doubts of how I did with Meat. I had a hard time to start writing his part and fear I unconsciously adjusted him a little to make him easier to write for me. **

**Since I'm super tired now: see you next week!**


	8. Chapter 8 - District 4 Reapings

_Reaping Day_

* * *

**Talise Belle (16)**

**She is brave enough to show mercy**

* * *

The fish are anything but shy here and so, as I wade through the knee-deep water, they bustle around just as usual. I bend down, gently holding my hands out into the stream, forming a shell. Then I wait.

_Snap. _It's not even hard to close my fingers around one of them. I hold it up to see the dull brown of its' scales then lower it down again, back into the water.

"At least we'll never go hungry, should we ever run out of money." I can hear the grin in my older brothers voice as he approaches from behind and turn to smile back at him.

"Have you done something terribly wrong, then? Like, spend all our savings on poker games?" I ask and he shakes his head at the joke.

"No, but I thought in case you were to eat up all the stocks from our pentry..."

"I'd never!"

He always makes it sound like I'm greedy as hell, but I train a lot, which means I need the calories. Not that he used to be any better... I move to the edge of the river and sit onto the grass, or what is left of it. The sun has burnt it down over the last few weeks, leaving only dry, beige stalks.

Noticing small drops of water running down my collar bones, I look to find the tips of my hair soaked. The dark brown is almost black because of the water, but I wring it a little and the rest should be done by the sun. I'm quiet pleased with the weather this year – it has given my skin a good tan, but I was able to avoid sunburn until now.

Casper sits beside me and hands me some nuts, which I take hungrily.

"Mum is starting with lunch now, but it'll take an hour 'till all is finished. I thought I'd bring you something to get through the wait."

"Does she need help?"

"No, it's fine. It's our free day and she say's we should enjoy ourselves."

"Well, it's her free day, too."

Casper shrugs and we go back to nibbling our nuts in silence. He is right, a day like this better is used to its' fullest. When we were younger we played here every morning, and it was not just us. There are several houses built along the river and the neighbours' children found it a fun activity, too.

Just because we live a little more central here, a good few miles from the ocean, doesn't mean the love for water is lost on us. Hell, even the rich kids, with their parents high up doing accounting jobs and whatnot, love to go down for fishing and swimming. In that way, our district lives up to the stereotypes, though it's not always like the capitol tries to lay it out.

"When I was your age I always went out with the guys from the Academy on reaping day, you know? To celebrate another successful year."

"Yes, I remember. I think they're going to have a diving contest down at the cliffs today", I tell him and think of my training partners, their screams when they freefall down into the ocean, the laughter from above, the smell of bbq-sauce mixed with burning wood and beer. To loud, to much potential for conflict. "It's not that I don't like them, just we're not friends either...and today they're probably especially annoying."

"So I guess you're not up to date on the every-year drama?"

"No, totally clueless," I tell him. "And I'm really glad about it."

Some who miss their volunteer spot are salty, of course. There have been years with terrible rumours spread and it's better to stay away from those. It's not that bad this time, as far as I involuntarily caught up, so that's a plus I guess.

"So what about you, sister? Do you want to volunteer?" he asks and I search in his face – would he like that? Or would he be scared for me? - but I find nothing, except honest interest.

"I don't know yet", I answer truthfully.

It's not that I have never spend a thought on it, but there still are two years left. I don't need to rush a decision. The trainers always tell us to _'listen to our heart' _and I think that's pretty good advice. You have to really want it in order to be successful.

With another year of practice I can imagine having the confidence and skill neccessary. Maybe I should try and commit to training even more? One extra day in the Academy won't cost a fortune and if I can see that through, I can be pretty sure to be ready for the arena.

Smiling to myself, I get up. Yep, that will be my plan for the next year and I'll better tell Mum as soon as possible.

* * *

**Tanzan Oshane (18)**

**He never had to concern himself with mercy**

* * *

"C'mon Darren!" I join the shouts, clapping my hands in support of the younger boy as he stands on the edge.

"You can do it!", "C'mon, just count to three! One, two..."

He steps forward and vanishes, a high pitched scream to go with him. As the sound fades, the typical dull splash follows and we all jog to look down the cliff. One of the guys we placed as safeguards, Gulliver, raises his arm to give a thumbs up, just as Darren breaks through the surface.

"Yeah!" and "Amazing job!" we all cheer, then move back to make room for the next person who wants to dive down.

I turn around to find Hamlet, whom I lost when we were all getting together to watch the newbies make their first dive. Finally I spot his dishevelled hair in the crowd and make my way towards him. He's dancing – or trying to dance – with a bottle of beer in one hand and snapping to the music with the other.

"Here, take one", he offers as soon as he sees me and reaches back to grab a bottle out of the beer crates stacked behind him.

I raise my hands in a declining manner, which earns me a wry smile. I've seen it all my life and know what it means.

"Ah, you're an ungrateful winner", he teases.

"No, I'm a very grateful winner. That's why I know I shouldn't be drunk at the reaping."

He shrugs and puts the bottle away. Over his head I look to see the sun, constantly wandering through the sky and signaling that reaping time draws closer. I still can't believe I get to volunteer this year. The competition here is open to everyone, so I just registered to give it a go. After years of training, at least I wanted to see how far up in the rankings I could get. Hamlet did as well and we both were surprised, to say the least, when it was actually me who got the green light.

"So, you don't want to go to the reaping drunk, but you're planning to wear this outfit?"

I look down to the worn out Jeans and white T-shirt, which peaks out from under the always fitting jeans jacket. I actually wouldn't mind going to the reaping like that, but of course, I'm not the one who gets the final say about it.

"No, Grandma packed me a change of clothes. It's a blue suit...she thinks it goes with my eyes."

Hamlet bursts into laugther, only holding himself up by grabbing my arm. "Cute. Does it have shoulder padding? Because that'd make you look even more intimidating. Or like you've hidden a second person in there..."

"I'm sure she thought of that.", I say and chuckle too. She's good at most of those things and for my big day, won't have forgotten even the tiniest detail. "I'm gonna go and see if they need help at the grill."

"I'll come, chef," Hamlet says and tags along.

With horror, I find the fire unguarded and the grillage above dangling in the slight ocean breeze. Morons. I grab a barbecue tong and check the sausages, which aren't burnt yet but would have in about a minute. The salmon isn't glazed anymore, but cooked through and I sigh – well, me can probably still find someone who wants to eat that.

Hamlet holds out a plate for me and I put the stuff on it one after the other, relieved to find everything fits on there in one go.

"I'll go and hand that around – can you make a tuna steak for me in the meantime?"

"Sure," I agree.

My stomach starts to rumble as well and I select a big slice for me as well. That'll be great to go with grilled aspargus and the rice salad I have seen at our improvised buffet. While I crontrol the temperature of the fire and flip fish, meat and vegetables, some people come to congratulate me or just pad me on the back. It's the only thing that's a little awkward about being the chosen volunteer – I basically can't walk through the streets without someone noticing me.

I have to start eating without Hamlet, who tells me that he got hung up talking, but gets back in time, so his tuna is still warm. When we are done he points to the clock. Already two in the afternoon, which means we need to end our party here soon to be punctual for the reaping. Grandma is going to kill me if I'm late.

"Attention, everyone! Now Tanzen here is going to do us the honor of the last dive!" I hear a shout and immediatley do my best to murder Hamlet with every spark of annoyance I can put into my gaze. Sadly, he's never been afraid of me and it doesn't faze him now.

"For real?" I ask, but know that I have already lost this fight.

I check the grill one last time and sigh, they have made a lineout right to the edge of the cliff. I guess I'll have to take it with a smile – and it's my last feast with the Academy, so I might as well to a last dive. I walk past the people I have trained with my entire life and I have to admit, I do feel proud beyond measure. I give them smiles here and there, though mostly I realise the nervous flutter building up, now that the moment of the reaping draws nearer.

For a second I ponder leaving on my jacket, but decide it could cause problems on the dive and reluctantly take it off. Then I look down, give a thumbs up to Gulliver and step forward.

Air rushes past me and the flutter intensifies, the I hit the water hard, immediatley strampling to get back up. Oof, that was so necessary! I grin, now floating, and let the tiny waves carry me, which isn't easy as my cloth soak up quickly.

"I'm the last one," I tell Gulliver, who helps me swim to the shore and we get out together.

"We have towels over there, but no hairdryer," he says, looking a little worried at my mat of hair, which hangs down to my shoulders.

"It's fine, thanks."

We grap the last few towels lying around and start to walk back up together. I look down at my wet self and think about whom except Hamlet I trust enough to built a makeshift towel-changing room. Afterall, I need to get into my reaping outfit somehow.

* * *

**Talise Belle (16)**

**She is brave enough to show mercy**

* * *

"How do you think Tanzan will do?" Elizabeth asks, leaning against the barrier that keeps us with the other sixteen-year-olds.

I try to remember him from Training, for sure I've seen him before. The only thing that comes to my mind is that he's rather tall, even for a guy of his age, but not holding his nose up higher than necessary.

"I hope he comes far. We can use a new victor here."

"Yep, did you hear they consider to change the one-volunteer policy?" She picks a single strand of hair off my dress.

"Huh?" That is new...so isn't that the popular standart of handling the Games in a sensible way anymore? "Tell me."

"It's just a conversation I overheard, so don't take my word for it, but apparently they think higher chances of victory are worth loosing one more talented trainee. Also, something about fairness, you know?"

I nod, I can see how that is a topic of discussion. More often than not a trainee is reaped as tribute anyway and why not have the two most capable people instead of one who is great? Interdistrict allies have been a thing lately. Also, the rule has been ignored several times over the last few years.

"Seems legit. I think it'll be great to have two tributes go into the Games who actually want to be there," I answer and smile, realising that this also would mean better chances for me, should I really go for harder training this coming year.

We don't have time for further talking, since the Hymn starts to play on stage, so we stand to attention and look up there. Domian wears a shiny blue fish-scale suit like every year, his hair orange – it's supposed to look like the sunlight, I heard him say once.

"Let's get to business, shall we?" he asks and moves to the reaping bowl. "Clover Morris!"

I try to make myself taller in order to see something, but most other girls think the same and so I can't catch a glimpse until a shared murmur moves trough the crowd. From all the way back a twelve year-old girl walks forward timidly, fists clenched, her breath flat.

"Do we have any volunteers?" Domian asks cheerfully and I look at the older girls. For sure one will take the opportunity now? A twelve year-old who probably never saw a weapon, let alone wield one, that's not acceptable. Everyone can see she doesn't belong in the Hunger Games – for sure one of them realises that no one will be mad if they take her spot.

But it stays silent.

Domian nods and walks back to the microphone to continue reaping the boy, who will be Tanzan, our best trainee. But the Games are unpredictable anyway.

"I volunteer!" I yell in the last moment and immediatley heads turn and voices raise in surprise.

Just a little startled by myself I remember that I need to walk up now and take little Clovers' place. Making a slight adjustment to the skirt of my dress I put on a smile and get moving. The walk is short and I can see terror turning into relieve as the girl passes me on her way back to her section.

"Thank you," she whispers and my smile brightens – so easy. Inside, I stare through the back of my head at everyone else who disregarded their opportunity to volunteer. What about the spirit of the Games? But sure they didn't even think that far.

"Well, well, that was a last minute call my dear! What is your name?" Domian exclaims and I take his hand as I climb up the last few steps.

"Talise Belle," I say simply, because it's the most neutral thing I can do now. I never received strategy coaching and my mind races with a hundred different things, so it's best to be neutral and wait, I guess.

"What a fine name. Ah, give a warm applause for Talise, everyone!"

They do and I'm surprised at how it fills me up to the core, even if some will be angry with me, for most I'm their tribute and they will be rooting for me.

"Ha, that was a pleasant little obstruction. But now, on to the boys, shall we?"

He walks over to the reaping bowl and puts his hand in, does not bother to select carefully, because he must know there is someone waiting to take the place. Domian barely gets to read the name, Flagger Storm, before a clear and loud voice sounds over the whole place.

"I volunteer!"

Tanzan is visible even as he moves through the masses of other trained boys. His steps, though confident, seem a little uncomfortable in the dark blue suit, but mostly that is overshadowed by the gleam on his face. He falls into a jog and once up on the stage, turns to wave to the crowd. They roar in response.

While Domian tries get get their attention back, we place ourselves in the middle of the stage and turn to face each other. I refuse to come too close, so I don't need to look up too much and luckily the distance works fine for a handshake. Tanzan looks at me curious and a little confused, like he can't wait to talk as soon as we are out of public view. I nod and hope he understands the response.

Later.

For now, we both need to follow the peacekeepers inside and I need to explain to my family this unexpected situation. I take a deep breath – they will understand, although they probably aren't super happy right now.

* * *

**Tanzan Oshane (18)**

**He never had to concern himself with mercy**

* * *

After grandma has left the room I lean back into the comfortable armchair and grin to myself. Let the Games begin! This feels even better than I imagined and I have to say, I'm pleasantly surprised with how things went.

Our unexpected volunteer appears to be a better ally than the twelve year-old and I guess she'll be good company. Her eyes were remotely familiar as she looked at me, she must be one of the younger trainees in the Academy. That's good I guess, but it won't change my plans to any extent.

I look up at the knock on the door – who else would want to visit me? Interested I sit up a little and must look stupidly surprised as Calvin walks in. He stands with his hands firmly pressed on his hips, gazing down at me in the most unhappy way.

"You idiot, I really hate you," he states dryly.

I'm indignant for a second. After we managed to avoid this topic for the past couple of month he know comes here to get into a fight? I frown, partly because it makes the unwelcome clod in my throat seem less annoying.

"You don't need to be here," I tell my former best friend, who curls his lips in response.

"Yes, I do. You're my friend, so I'm here to tell you that I support you, if that makes sense," he says, sounding offended.

"What? That's new."

After he stopped training altogether a few years back, I thought he'd never turn around to say something like that. We have fought about the Games several times, with the result that we agreed on just not talking about them anymore. Afterall, friends can do other fun things together. So now he changed his mind?

"Is it new that I'd like you to live a happy life? For that I guess you need to win, right?" He doesn't laugh, like maybe Hamlet would have. "Just...try to remember the other tributes are humans as well."

I tilt my head a little, but ultimately can't find a catch in his words. Calvin means well, afterall he is here to say goodbye to me.

"I guess I can do that," I say and stand up to shake his hand. He grabs it, this time with a half smile.

* * *

**Wohoo! Two things to celebrate with this chapter!**

**One, we have reached the halfway point with introductions/reapings and two, this syot is finally full. **

**I had D4 written a while ago, but went back and edited some stuff – Tanzan and Talise were a nice pair to write. I did play a little with worldbulding to fit their forms, so I hope you like it. **

**Since we're a full syot now, I also want to ask you a question about my update schedule: Are you good with one chapter a week or would you prefer updates to come slower/faster? I'd like for everyone to be able to keep up with reading, since those are your characters and I imagine if you're involved in multiple stories that can become stressful. There's a poll on my profile where you can vote. **

**For now I will keep thursday as a set day, so see you then with D6 :) **


	9. Chapter 9 - District 3 Reapings

_Reaping Day_

* * *

**Leela Garmin (15)**

**It is delusional to rely on mercy**

* * *

I leave the Community home alone and breath in the air, hot midday, which means there is still a bit of time till the reaping bells sound. Since we don't have to work on our school assignments today I use the time to walk a few blocks, something we don't get to do as often as I wish. Matrix still has cleaning service on his schedule, so he needed to stay in after we had dinner together.

Yep, dinner. There's never dinner in the Community home, since the amounts we get from our tesserae isn't sufficent to provide that. It's a system in which everyone still has to ensure their own survival, because all we really get is a roof over our heads, a bed to sleep in and continued education. At least, that keeps us off of the streets, though sometimes I wonder if that would not be the better option?

I stand between two skyscrapers and try to catch a glimps of the blue sky, so I jump at the sudden whispers coming from the street corner. Ignore them...just ignore them. I try my best to seem interested in the sky, but in truth I listen carefully as I try to find out who is there and if I should move my freetime activity to a different place.

"Is she the one who is a Capitol drone?" says a young male voice.

"I tell you, she is! She always stares, it's creepy."

"Right! No one even stands that static either."

I turn, but only a quater, to prove them wrong and catch a glimpse. The group of boys hangs around here sometimes, I've seen them before. One of them, Zigg, is from the Community home as well, but the others must live with their families around here. Why don't they have anything better to do today? But of course, in their minds teasing Leela is probably a good thing to occupy themselves with.

"Chip, what are you doing? Come back here!"

One of them leaves his friends to walk a couple of steps towards me, then stops again, very obviously staring at me. I take a deep breath and try to remain calm, looking at him with what I hope is a warning glare – maybe he understands, afterall he is younger than me. The young ones can sometimes be scared away.

"If she was a drone, she'd be way more descreet about it!" Quickly coming nearer he puts his hand to his mouth and shouts:"You are just a dumb, insolent girl, isn't that so?"

That is my clue. I turn and walk in the other direction fast, looking back only once to make sure non of them is following me. They usually don't because it isn't worth it for them, so I only hear their taunts as I flee. However, better safe than sorry and especially on reaping day, when some minds work differently. Everyone is stressed, everyone is afraid.

I can't exclude myself from that group, yet I take solace in the fact that the large crowds will offer an opportunity to blend in. They tend to care about themselves then, maybe their families, but even that can get lost in all the hustle.

If I still had a family I know we would be there for each other now. When one day Matrix had hesitantly asked me if I sometimes wished they hadn't given me the bionic eyes, I could only stare at him in disbelieve. Never. They worked for years and this whole time it was the only thing I ever wanted. See. They told me they were so happy to see me with my new eyes – so I like to think that at least they died with the knowledge that they have reached their goal.

Not that District three is very pleasant to look at, but I found my happiness in other things. People are interesting, at least from afar.

Now, as the shrill alarm of the reaping sounds through the streets, I decide not to go back and wait for Matrix. We will find each other at the market place. Instead, I wait a few minutes, then silently join the masses and together we flock towards the center, where a stage will be build up and two death sentences will be spoken.

* * *

**Nike Queerin (17)**

**Ignorance is not a mercy**

* * *

I run. Two steps at a time. Flower clutched tightly to my chest.

The alarm bells sound shrill and the only way I can escape them is my room. I close the door and rush to the window. Oh, why haven't I payed attention to the clock? I close it, then press the button beside the frame. Impatiantly I tap my feet, watching the shutters come down slowly.

The sound fades, but is still audible even through the thick walls. I drop Flower to the floor. She doesn't like it either, her white and brown fur looking like she was attached to the power socket. Contrary to her, I can blend out the rest with my headphones. I put them in my ears and select a song, finally able to slow down my rapidly pumping heart.

"Come, let's sit here and wait it out," I say to the cat, who looks up to me desperately.

I pick her up and put her in my lab, then we both curl into tiny balls on my bed. Again, they haven't warned me in advance. I only ever realise what day it is because my mother is home, she sat at the breakfast table with a strained smile, and I finally was able to tell her about the miniature laser machine I built. It still has some kinks, but hey, they colours can already switch from red to blue!

She laughed and my father immediatley promised to find some more material for me to make it more complex – if he has time on a sunday, he said, he wants to work on it with me. I'm already excited for that and it also will keep me concentrated on the things I can change. Children fighting each other, somewhere in an arena, somewhere far away, is nothing I can change. But I wish I could! I wish I could help them...

That said – when my mother explained it to me she told me part of it is their own fault for entering the lottery. They want to make their lifes better with luxuries, so they take those _tesserae_ things, and that is what gives them a ticket for the Games. I can understand that, of course I'd want to help my family too, but I'm so glad that we have more than enough luxuries.

What I still don't understand is why we have to go to that reaping and watch. Father helped me with the suit and tie, the former a moderate blue, the latter bright magenta. It fits my current hairdo in colours, but I'm not sure if it fits the occasion. Every other day, I like the happy feeling these give me, but today, shouldn't we all wear mourning clothes?

The second wave of alarm is over and I know that we will have to leave soon now. How long has it been since I left our property? For sure, it was at last year's reaping. Maybe that is why I dislike it so much. But I could change that maybe? If I got out more, only along the street and then back, I could meet some people. I should ask father if he'd let me – one of the maids could accompany me, too. They know their way around, so I wouldn't get lost.

A faint knock on my door and I put my headphones out, so I can hear what my father says.

"We need to go now, Nike, dear. Come, we don't want to be late."

I decide to ask him later at dinner and for now, just stroke Flowers' fur one last time, then follow downstairs. He wears a suit as well, but mostly I am stunned at how pretty my mother looks in her long golden dress, which fits her caramel hair. She hugs me in a tense motion and father joins in – I guess they don't like it as well, that we have to go out and watch some children get selected to die.

As soon as we walk out the front door and after that, through the heavy metal gate of our property, I feel nervous prickles all over my body. As every year, people who come in way to big masses for my taste, stare at us with grim faces. I try to smile at some of them in an encouraging manner, but they look away. Most just ignore us.

During the five minute walk to District three's market place I start to wonder as always, why we seem to be part of only few who dressed up nicely for the occasion. Everyone else put on their shabbiest clothes, dull colours, and some did not even bother to wash. I dare not ask about it – father says that as long as we are a family, we do not need to understand the others. We have each other, which is more than enough.

We reach the point where we need to split up – they want to have all the children in one place. I turn to my parents and give a quick smile.

"See you later."

At least that is something I can be unconcerned about. Contrary to most, as it seems, I can be sure to see them again in just about an hour and we will be back home to have dinner.

My heart sinks as I remember what comes next. One of the many present peacekeepers – who don't look peaceful at all – will want to stab me with a needle and collect my blood. Mother explained it was for identification. I whimper. Isn't it enough if I just tell them my name? Why do they have to be that cruel?

Determined to not be a crybaby I put on a brave face, telling myself it is nothing more than a small injury. It will be heald by tomorrow and a papercut is way worse. I try to find a spot with the other seventeen year-old boys, of whom I know no one. I remember having one or two friends as a really small child, but then my parents arranged for me to get homeschooled for better education and we lost contact. I wouldn't recognise them now, I believe.

I watch as several people, dressed up as nicely as myself, enter the stage in front and take seats. Soon the screen will switch on and tell about the war between the Capitol and the Districts, a terrible thing that I'm lucky is over now. The peace we have is a great thing and everyone can live a comfortable life again.

Except for the Hunger Games, of course. I wish Flower was here with me, for moral support, but she would likely run away and not find her way back home. Oh, I wish they just wouldn't choose anybody and let them go home. If the Capitol wants them to pay for the extra luxuries, they could just give them more work. That would benefit all.

The video ends and a woman with yellow curls and in a grean blouse takes the place at the microphone. She's here every year and I have to admire her upbeat and supportive nature, despite the tragic occasion.

"Let's get our female tribute first!" she announces and puts her hand into a bowl with an unbelievably high amount of lottery tickets. Why would so many people risk their lifes?

* * *

**Leela Garmin (15)**

**It is delusional to rely on mercy**

* * *

For once they leave me alone, everyone around me keeps their healthy distance. No mean comments. Just distance, like I have a contagious disease. The only way out is through the alley they made for me. But that would mean up the stage.

I don't want to go there.

I look around, faces turning away. Where should I go? My feet tingle, want to run somewhere, but just not up the stage. But I need to go there, I know I have no other option. It's almost strange how fast my feet carry me towards my death, once I have decided to go that way.

"Alright everyone, clap for Leela, our District 3 female tribute!" the blinding figure of our Escort says and they do her bidding, like they want to please her, or no.

No, they just want to be left alone by the peacekeepers. Not clapping could mean an act of rebellion, if they're being harsh, so of course everyone does as told. Not that they'd come to my rescue even if the situation was different. Probably most of the people are happy, it's not their children this year and who will miss one of so many orphans?

But I can't give up hope. I look up at one of the screens and check my face, for once greatful that my eyes don't betray any emotion.

"Now, for the boys...," she continues and immediatley picks a piece of paper. "Nike Queerin!"

No one moves.

Several seconds pass, half a minute, one. Even I start to shift my weight from one foot to the other, before they have finally found him. A horror struck boy from the seventeen year-olds and he sticks out like a sore thumb, looking like straight out of the Capitol itself. Like he should have been sitting in front of his TV, safe at home, not be here at the District three reaping.

"No, that can't be possible. That is a mistake, good sir. Please, no, no," he utters fittingly, but they still drag him onto the stage and make him stand by my side.

He seems pitysome emotionally, but still everything else about him makes my skin crawl. The light brown hair going over into bright coloured tips, the equally offensive suit, his When we shake hands he stares at me like he expects help of some sort, but I decide to look away and quickly turn to the justice building. Afterall, there won't be much time for goodbyes, and Matrix...oh, poor Matrix!

Once they locked me in a sparsely equipped room it doesn't take thirty seconds until he is with me. He hurls himself at me, closing his arms around my shoulders and I do the same. His fingers tap nervours patterns on my back.

"Why you?" he asks, muffled into my plain dress. A stupid question, but I don't have to tell him that now.

"I know I have a chance," I say instead, not only to convince him, but also myself. How likely is it that my skillset is even worth anything in the arena? So much depends on environment in the Games that maybe one year out of a hundred I could come back alive.

"Without you, who is going to be my dinner date? So you will bring this back for me?"

Matrix breaks our hug and steps back, shuffling through the breast pocket of his plain white shirt, while I caught my breath at the words he used. Did he say that on purpose or was it a coincidence? Yes, we eat dinner together regularly, but it was never meant to be a date... I pull my thoughts back under control as he holds out a closed fist to me. I stare into his soft green eyes, begging but also demanding me to make a promise first. I don't hesitate.

"I will."

He opens it, his fingers twitching like they are stuck for a moment, then revealing a small earring. It's a dull silver, the half-round broad enough to catch attention, but otherwise a simple piece of jewelry.

"You stole it?" I make sure, but of course he did. We don't get any money for our work as long as we live in the community home, so that's the only possible way to obtain any kind of personal posession.

"Sure. From one of the caretakers' rooms," he explains and hands it to me.

I take the earring, unsure what to do with it. My dress doesn't have any pockets and anyway, I'd fear to loose it if I put it in such an insecure place.

"Damn! I wish I had a thread or something, so you could wear it on a necklace," Matrix expresses his regret, while still shaking his right hand excessively. I grab it firmly and hold it still.

"No need for that," I answer and study the sharp pin for a moment. It should work.

With clenched eyes I feel the spot where it is about to go, then hold my earlobe tight and push. The pain is not as bad as expected, but I still press my lips together as hard as I can. A few drops of blood roll down my finger and I lick them off.

Matrix gets a hold of his surprised expression quite fast, then he grins. "It suits you."

"Thanks," is all I manage, knowing our time must almost be up. And then we will be seperated – but I won't let it be forever.

* * *

**Change of plans after I struggled with D6, which is postponed to next week. Sorry for that inconvenience. Instead you got D3 because I had already finished that. I did take some creative liberties here, especially with Nike, and I hope that is alright. Overall I feel like it's not my best chapter, but still hope to have introduced our tributes sufficiently. **

**See you next week! **


	10. Chapter 10 - District 6 Reapings

_Reaping Day_

* * *

**Owen Yearling (16)**

**He has no mercy**

* * *

It was a few years ago when I discovered their graves, one of the few with actual tombstones and names written on them, because who can afford such a thing? Only the rich can – and the Capitol.

_Oliver Athena. _

_We salute the bravery and sacrifice of our female tribute for the 35th Hunger Games._

_Rose Athena. _

_We salute the bravery and sacrifice of our male tribute for the 35th Hunger Games._

_Ash Athena. _

_We salute to the bravery and sacrifice of our male tribute for the 38th Hunger Games._

There could be another one next year, antoher one Iven wouldn't visit because the pain is still to much for the old man. Though I honestly doubt it.

"I'll come back to visit you after I'm victor," I tell them, knowing they can hear me.

I've watched their Games, so I can imagine their figures standing beside me quite accurately, Oliver with her signature red scarf standing even taller than myself, Rose with his white blindfold and the silver chain necklace, the exact twin worn by Ash, though at the time he had added Roses' heart charm to it. Their tokens somehow are the most outstanding things about them, I guess because those are still lying around the house, for real.

If they have voices, they should have a body as well – bodyless voices are just strange. So I think about how they're here with me, as usual glimmering, almost invisible walls between them. They always talk seperate, they never seem to be able to hear each other. Drifted apart in death, when they were bound as siblings in life. Sometimes I wonder why my mother isn't with them, afterall she was part of their patchwork family, adopted just like them, but I guess it's because she didn't die in the Hunger Games.

"Hurting other people won't make you feel more full it will only make you more empty inside," Rose breathes with his faint voice – a voice he never used when he was alive. I curl my lips in dismay, here we go again.

_'You know how that doesn't matter a bit? You're not me, so you don't get to assume that,'_ I tell him in my thoughts.

"True. But.." - _'Well then get lost.'_

"I'm trying to save you here, Owen," he continues and I wish that he would shut up.

If I was a weakling like him, I'd know it and for sure wouldn't even think of entering the Hunger Games. But today I'm not going to volunteer for anybody other than myself. It's my luck that Rose actually decides to shut up as I start to walk home and even as I enter the house – one of many grey blobs lined up as close together as possible – they all stay silent.

"I'm home!" I shout and hope that Iven will stay down in his lab, just this once. I don't need him to start worrying about my participation in the Games earlier than necessary. I don't need his pained face and old, creaking voice telling me that I shouldn't. He wouldn't actually be able to convince me, but I don't want to try him on it either.

For a second I listen to his rumbling around, then step into the living room. Time to make a decision. What should I take with me? Rose's and Ash's necklace? Oliver's scarf? Placed behind the glass of our memory cabinet their tokens seem like first choices.

Just at the thought of it I can picture Rose's innocent face falling apart in horror, if I take the necklace that connected him and his twin onto a fun killing spree. Is it worth his annoying whispers, though?

Oliver sure wouldn't complain if I decide on her scarf instead. It's got that striking red colour, but that is part of the problem. It's striking...and could make me an easy target. Also, this scarf has seen more than enough bloodshed.

My gaze falls on another thing, a heart charm necklace, but this one in gold. Abyss. I don't know a ton about Iven's brother, only that Iven wears the very twin of this necklace around his own neck. And this one hasn't been to the arena yet – maybe it will prove its' worth as a lucky charm there.

I turn the key around with a silent screech and take the golden necklace between my fingers. It's lighter than I thought and fits over my head perfectly. For now I take it off, though, and store it in my pants pocket. There's no need to worry that Iven will realise it is missing. On reaping day, he avoids looking at this cabinet like the plague.

* * *

***Trigger warning: This POV contains suicidal thoughts**

**Halexa Caraudi (13)**

**She could not find mercy**

* * *

Walking among the crowd makes me stick out. I don't know them and they don't know me. Maybe some have seen me around.

They look at me now for my dirty clothes, even more so than on regular days. All dressed up for the Capitol, it's not worth it. A spark of anger lits inside me, but I refuse to let it grow and make me grit my teeth about it. It vanishes as quickly as it came.

Without issue I reach the square of justice and get in line behind several kids waiting. We all need to get registered for the reaping. Some chat with low voices, some are already crying. Strange enough that I imagined I'd be excited, but there's only a hint of grieve that torments me. The emptiness which Lucinana left behind.

One year ago, the same square, the same line, the same stage. Only that we both walked to our places with the twelve-year-olds. Today I walk alone to the section that is labled for the thirteen-year-old girls.

I don't bother to walk through till the end, but rather stay next to the wide open space for the tributes to walk through. The tribute-walk, it's what they call it here. Grey asphalt, five steps on the stairs, onto the stage.

Wondering when they might start I breathe out the nausea that builds in my stomach. It grows with every minute.

Looking behind me I can make out the section for adults – where all the parents stand worrying for their kid and where everyone else stands, watching. My parents must be there somewhere. Watching. Are they glad? Afterall, they have nothing to loose.

Now I feel sick. Really sick, and I sure need the reaping to start already.

As the space fills up with children, girls have to gather around where I stand. Near the tribute-walk. One of them turns towards me. She's pale, blonde, skinny. Average.

"Good luck," she whispers and tries to smile, but fails miserably.

"Thank you," I answer. Just for good manners, no more.

I stare straight ahead, this has nothing to do with luck anymore. Not for me. I refuse to let the Capitol decide over my life. They already ruined it – what was left to ruin – and my anger rages inside. I stand still, waiting for the stage to come to life. Even that they manage, delaying my revenge.

The introduction video starts to play: Heroes, bravery. No one is a hero in Panem. Brave? Maybe. I don't know if one could say that I'm brave. But probably not. I'm empty, while the brave are full.

I stare at the Escort, a pale man in a purple and red caro suit. His lips are unnaturally full. They pop, make smacking sounds against the microphone. Was Lucinana scared of him? Who are those evil people? He watched my sister die after he was her guardian for a week! Still, he stands here and grins clown-like. As if nothing happend. This is all great fun!

Yes, this is going to be great fun. For me, only.

"Hello humans..." He waves. "Let's see if I can reap some capable tributes this year."

He tiptoes to the girls' bowl and grips the first ticket he can get. I stand calm and watch him unfold it.

For almost eleven month I've been glad I didn't have the guts to volunteer back then. If I had gone in her stead, Lucinana would have had to go through all of the pain, grief, guilt. She didn't deserve this. I don't deserve this – but who am I to chose?

It's ironic how I'm also going to save someone today. It's not what motivates me at all. Just a feel-good byproduct of further ruining the Capitol's plan. They sure don't want the Hunger Games to go like that.

This is not how the reaping was planned. I smile shakily.

"Our tribute is Stella Pongs!"

I don't wait till she walks out of the crowd. I just slide through under the barrier and stand on the tribute-walk, the words coming out of my mouth with ease. "I volunteer."

There is immediate shouting. I walk up the stage and face the people of my District. It doesn't even feel like I'm leaving home. The Escort-man walks up to me, he makes a shocked face.

"Whyever would a small thing like yourself volunteer? How exciting! Please, tell everyone your name."

"It's Halexa Caraudi," I answer and I dread what is going to come next. He will recognise me. He will dare and take her name into his mouth.

"Oh, but then you are related to our sweet Luciana, right? What an interesting development!"

He looks at me. Does he expect me to say something? I stay silent. How could he? How can he now? I slowly curl my fingers around my arm, slightly tempted. But he's not the worst of them.

"Alright, let's move on. This is already one of the best reapings in quite a while, don't you think?" he asks, but nobody answers.

I only pay attention again when he has the ticket drawn. He doesn't even get to open it.

"I volunteer!"

"What? That's getting even better!" he shouts and looks like it is his birthday. Even I feel a spark of interest. Two volunteers...what a coincidence.

A guy walks up from the sixteen year-olds. Smiling. Relaxed. Huge but thin. "I'm Owen Yearling," he introduces himself, before the question is asked.

He comes to stand beside me, but I don't look up at him. Now the Escort-man wants to know why he has volunteered.

"Um..I kinda want to break the family curse. It's a complicated story," he says and shrugs. Then he smiles a bit more. He must be smiling at me as well as we shake hands.

I turn away from the crowd, towards the doors which lead into the justice building. Where there will be quietness. Where I'll have a moment of peace before the storm.

* * *

**Owen Yearling (16)**

**He has no mercy**

* * *

Whyever it is she volunteered, that little girl would look better with her face slammed by a rock. Finally I am here and finally, I have the means to make that a reality. That is, if it doesn't turn out there's a more interesting way to kill her – but I'll have to wait to find that out until we are in the train.

I hope the gleam in my eyes passes as friendly enough to not frighten Iven, who enters through the door right this moment. His graying hair falls over his downward looking eyes, and I can instantly see that he avoids to look at me. He breathes heavily, probably from walking up all the stairs, since we are on the second floor. I stand up from my chair and offer it to him.

"Here, sit."

He takes it without comment, lets out some more air through his mouth. His fingers clenched to fists I can see that he doesn't know what to do or say. How does he feel about me volunteering? What does he believe right now why I did it? If I knew that I'd probably say something first, but the way it is I just wait, walking back and forth in the tiny room.

"A token...you need one..." Iven eventually says, his voice hard, harder than I've ever heard it before.

"I've already taken Abysse's necklace...I thought it is beautiful," I tell him and pull out the necklace. I give him the warmest smile I have with it.

He stares at it, his grey eyes wide, though I can't judge it it's only surprise ore something else. After a moment his shoulders fall, tired, like he's accepting something, then he takes it out of my hands and turns it around a few times between his fingers.

"I won't ask you why you chose it," he says and hands it back. As I put it on – since it will be my symbol during the course of these Games – he struggles to stand up and slowly turns around towards the door.

Does he think I won't make it? Well, he's so wrong about that. I can't have him break down while I'm gone, with no one there to take care of his health.

"Hey, listen to me. I'm doing this for them. I'll come back and bring your fallen children honor."

* * *

**Both tributes weren't easy to write, a true challenge and I believe they will continue to be one. For Owen I really hope to have captured his family construction alright – it's kinda confusing with so many relations and this was what I struggled with the most. I wanted to introduce them without info dumping to much. **

**As for Halexa, I kinda experimented with her voice a lot. I couldn't imagine her sounding anything similar to the tributes I've written before and I hope that I've found something that suits her. **

**So as usual, what do you think of our tributes? The chapter in general? Four Districts left until we move on to the Capitol!**


	11. Chapter 11 - District 12 Reaping

_Reaping Day_

* * *

**Wisteria Lockwind (15) **

**She would not beg for mercy**

* * *

Alone in our house I sit on the worn-out sofa and though I would cherish the solitude on any other day, it is getting to my head right now.

If only the peacekeepers weren't on extra special alert today, I could go to see Hunter and at least have something to do. With the upcoming reaping I feel a giddyness that is more than annoying. I shouldn't be scared, I shouldn't consider the possibility of my name being picked, I shouldn't even be thinking about it.

In this moment I can't even will myself to get angry about it, because I've been through that so many times before and the Hunger Games are a fact which cannot be erased. I'm doing everything I can to make the prospect of getting reaped a lesser threat, yet it doesn't feel like it's enough. Taking only two out of four possible tesserae and going hungry every winter, spending countless hours of secretly clashing sticks with Hunter in his backyard. All that is nothing more than an desperate attempt at gaining a little control of my fate.

I'm pulled out of those painstaking musings by the screech of our frontdoor, which means Mom and Wren have come home from grocery shopping.

"I've got a fresh loaf of bread and cheese for lunch, and some cranberry jam", Mom tells with excitement in her voice, setting a cloth bag onto the kitchen table before she leaves for the bathroom.

Wren hurls herself on the sofa to sit beside me and smiles faintly, putting her hand on my leg like she wants to reassure me that everything is going to be fine.

"Don't worry, you'll be alright. You have been for the last three years, too."

"You don't understand how that feels, Wren. It's like always being in edge, because the Capitol is out for my live. They'll want your's next year as well."

"But it is only one day of the year."

I watch her with wary eyes, calculating wether or not she's ready to hear the truth. She is already eleven, there is no use treating her like an infant, I decide and put a firm hand on her shoulder.

"No. That is what they want you to believe, but never ever be fooled by that. From the day you were born to the day you turn eighteen, you are on their kill list and someday you might just be the unlucky one who is chosen. And the only way to be intelligent about it is to prepare yourself for that moment."

I catch my breath after that and check my sisters' reaction. She is silent for a few seconds. After that, she takes her hand away from my leg, tucking an auburn strand of hair behind her ear like she means business.

"Then you must teach me", she says, determination in her voice. It's strange how suddenly she appears to be an exact copy of my younger self. I remember saying the same thing to Hunter when we first met.

"You can tag along sometime", I promise her, but leave the exact amount of times open because while I do love her, I don't want to spend my every minute taking care of my little sister.

"Girls? I need you to get ready for the reapings", Mom interferes our conversation, her nervous smile meant to be strong.

I sigh and stand up, why do we even bother? I doubt it would make a difference to the Capitol people if we came in our usual rags or slightly prettier rags, because there is no other word to describe any kind of dress affordable in District twelve. Yet I remain silent and walk sternly to get dressed.

* * *

**Austin Terrine (17)**

**He believes that mercy comes natural**

* * *

The streets are already crowded when we leave our house – it's more of a wooden barrack, actually, the same as many here in the seam. With the sun shining fiercely down on my family and me, it would be easy to mistake the scene for a group of citizens going to a festival rather than an execution.

People are dressed in nice clothes and probably are the cleanest they have ever been since last year. They wear smiles on their faces while they talk about the amazing lunch feast they will have in a few hours. We greet some of our neighbours and give them hugs, just like best friends do.

I wonder if they show pictures of that in the Capitol, telling the citizens how excited District twelve is for the annual reaping. I bet most of them don't know that we wear a smile because we fear being whipped. That what we consider a lavish feast would be a poor excuse for even a small meal in the Capitol. And that we hug our neighbours because it is the only way of sharing our terror, worries, sympathy and hopefulness with each other.

The reaping square comes into sight and we stop, my mother pulling me into a hug immediatley. I press my face into her shoulder and hug back, feeling somehow guilty that she has to worry because of me.

"He'll be alright, Hope", Ron says and I meet my stepfather's gaze with a thankful expression as he gently pulls her away from me and into his own arms.

"Don't you worry, boy. There's not a chance your ticket will be pulled today."

After that, Daisy throws herself at me and I'm glad she is still to young to be in danger.

"I'll wait for you, big brother", she promises.

She doesn't know we are not full siblings, but I guess it is better this way. Well, not even I know who my real father is. The only thing I know is that he is one of the many peacekeepers, standing there indifferently like statues. How can they be like that, so emotionless and without compassion? I always wonder if maybe they are threatened into doing this as well.

Yet, I too feel indifferent, as I can't control what happens. It angers me that the people here have no power at all and yes, I find myself wishing it could change, that we could somehow obtain even a little bit of political influence, but I know that now is not the right time to dwell in unrealisable fantasies, not to mention speaking of them.

I quickly walk over to the other seventeen year old boys, crammed into a space way too small for all of us to fit, so personal space doesn't exist here. We are lucky everyone is so thin from starving. Careful not to shove anyone I manoeuver myself through them until I see some familiar faces from school.

"Hi. Can I stand with you?" I ask and get a nod in response.

From here I have a good view on the justice building and the stage in front of it. Everyone of importance is already there. The mayor in his brown suit, the Escort Holly Glover and Haymitch Abernathy, now our sole living victor after Carter Greenfields passed away this winter. Alcohol poisoning they say.

I zone out during the reading of our mayor, because after seventeen years of hearing it, I am sure I know what he says. Instead my gaze wanders to the younger children behind us and I squirm at all their scared faces. The only thing remotely fair about the reaping system is that younger kids get fewer tickets entered in the reaping bowls, I try to remind myself. I won't be one of them.

Holly scurries forward impatiently after the formalities are done and now is the time my fingers hold onto the fabric of my jacket, just to have something to cling to. I know the girls will be first, but still, how am I supposed to watch someone get condamned to die otherwise?

* * *

**Wisteria Lockwind (15) **

**She would not beg for mercy**

* * *

"The time is finally here, District twelve! Are you as excited as I am?"

Her voice a strange singsong of heights and lows, our Escort from the Capitol earns only bland applause for her question. I, too, clap my hands togethers three or four times, but stop right after. No, I'm not excited for the Reaping, but I am excited for it's ending.

Now that she has moved to the front of the stage where the reaping bowls are placed, I find the sky blue dress of hers to look alive, somehow. The train seems to be bedazzled with little stones and every step she takes it flows around her slender body beautifully.

"Now...who will be our female tribute this year, I wonder?"

As soon as her hand hovers above the thousands of paper slips, I shake myself to get back into reality. No need to be nervous now. This is just like any other day, right? It's more likely to starve than to get reaped. It's more likely do die by accident than to get reaped, I add, a little bitter.

Holly sinks her hand deep into the glass bowl and pulls it out, one single ticket between her fingers. I breathe out – is this my death sentence? Contrary to the years before I feel a deep, heavy pain in my guts, but that could be the stress, because I swear everyone around me is covered in sweat like after a hard workday. It's sickening, to be honest.

"Wisteria Lockwind!"

Suddenly my vision is blurred and if I didn't know better, I'd say my heart is already giving out. There is something I need to do, but I can't put my mind around it. To the left I notice a movement, Peacekeepers, judging from the white uniform. Now I know what is expected of me.

As my legs obey the command to move, reality starts to kick in again. I'm walking towards the stage, all eyes on me and my face must be the definition of panic. Quick, flat breaths make it hard to think clearly and all my effort goes into steadying them, not giving in to the urge of turning and fighting my way out of here. That would be impossible.

Way to fast I reach the stairs, on top of which Holly stands waiting.

"Ah, congratulations, honey", she sings and scurries towards me with widened arms.

To late I notice what is happening and fail to back away, so that I find myself captured in her feathery embrace, choking either from panic or the enchanting smell of her perfume. So I push, stumble backwards, free. This is good. Something inside me eats away the pure terror, enabling me to control my body again.

"Oh! I'm sorry dear, we shall make it more formal then", the Escort offers and reaches for my hand to shake it. I somehow remember to straighten up and give a firm shake. That is what I should do, right?

She then moves on to the glass bowl on my right and somehow the only thing I can concentrate on is the magnificent flow of her dress, how it moves around her and makes it look like she floats. I don't even remember Holly calling a name, but then there's trouble down at the stage and people gasping.

A peacekeeper drags a boy who is totally frozen from shock. His feet collide with the first step before he moves them up, just enough not to stumble again but not so much that it doesn't make it look umcomfortable. All the while, the peacekeeper digs into the boys' arm until he is finally placed beside me.

I stare into a pair of strange eyes, but most strinking is the scar which runs across his face, from cheek to chin, where the skin was ripped open from whipping, though that must've been years ago. So, that one. 'It's what happens to you when a whipping goes wrong. So never go into the woods, understood?' is what they tell everywhere in the seam and of course I've heard it as well.

While we stare into each others' eyes a mild applause reaches us, but it's enough to get me out of my own stupor. In a few minutes I'll have to say goodbye to my family.

Will my father come? Could it be that he finally talks to me again? We barely spoke three words to each other after my older brother Barnaby died saving Wren and me from the housefire. I can't even remember why our home had burned down, or the time before that when my father did speak to me. What will he do, now that he's likely to loose another child?

I imagine him not opening his mouth, instead it is me who starts to speak. I'm going to tell him that I was always angry with him for not being there. And then I'm going to tell him that we can make it up to each other after the Games. This prospect somehow turns my guts inside out, more than death luring for me, at least for now. What will he say? What do I want him to say?

* * *

**Austin Terrine (17)**

**He believes that mercy comes natural**

* * *

Surreal is the only word I can think of to describe how I'm feeling right now. Surreal that I have to go and fight in the Hunger Games, that other children will die because of me or just the opposite, that I will die so another child can live.

Surreal that my mother hurls herself at me, her tear immediatley running down my neck and soaking my shirt. She grips me tight and shakes uncontrolably, a sensation that is transferred right into my own body as I find that I have arms, which I can move to hug her back. She does not deserve this. We don't deserve this, but then again, who does?

"Austin, you have to come back!" Daisy demands right the moment she comes through the door, her voice desperate, but she tries to stay strong. Ron follows her, both hands burried in his hair.

"I..." I start to say, but it fades out and I have to try again. "I can't promise you anything."

Mom finally loosens her grip and wipes aways her tears, though finally being able to see her reddened face makes my own eyes water.

"Yes, you can promise to fight. I know that you're a fighter, Austin."

"I agree." Ron steps forward to hug her and I suddenly feel relieve in knowing that he will for sure take care of her. She has someone to cry her eyes out with, who will feed her and continue to make her happy. "You're also not unprepared. Think about what you know about plants – that alone is a great asset," he adds and I nod.

"Alright. I think I can promise you to fight and try my very best to get back to you all. There still are a few training days to pick up new skills."

When you think about it, there's actually a ton one can learn in a few days. Weapon skills, further survival skills and maybe I could even learn to swim? I take a deep breath, that's probably thinking to far ahead.

"And we will be watching on TV and see if you keep your promise." Daisy looks almost like this is meant as a warning, but they way she looks it is clear she means it as a motivation.

I hadn't even thought about how the whole of Panem will be able to watch me. But that is a good thing. If the whole of Panem can watch, I could get the whole of Panem on my side, right? I can certainly show them that I am a fighter. If that is what wins them over, my chances don't stand to bad.

"I'll think about you every day," I finally say, knowing that our time must be up any moment.

I gulp down a lump in my throat and hug them, one after another. Now tears run down my cheeks and as the door opens I can barely make myself let go. Whatever is going to happen now? We will drive to the Capitol, yes, but I realise that I have no clue at all what kind of place that is. They say it's colourful and happy...how can a city with such nasty people be like that, though?

* * *

**It's kinda late here in Germany, but I guess it's more towards the middle of the day for most of you. I actually don't remember writing most of that chapter, since it's been done for a while, but I know that it went relatively easy. Only the ending was hard...I'm not one for super emotional stuff, so I hope to have chosen the right amount of, um, emotions, I guess?**

**So what do you think of Wisteria and Austine?**

**I'll see you next week with the District eight reapings – until then, hope to hear from you in the reviews!**


	12. Chapter 12 - District 8 Reaping

**Front note, because important: I promised a double chapter, and you will get it, but the second one isn't proof read yet, so I need to upload that after I got some sleep. I won't give you a chapter with a billion mistakes in it and am too tired to find them all now :D**

* * *

_Reaping Day_

* * *

**Blairoxx Alvena (16)**

**She is not blinded by false mercy**

* * *

They call our quater _The little Capitol _and I can't even express how much I hate that name. We are nothing like them, because we still are people of District eight.

I recent years there was a shift towards Capitol values, more people saying openly that they are thankful for our President's support. One boy from school even tried to learn their stupid accent. Some laughed about it, but most didn't do anything. Me neither – I just went to ignore them harder, minding my own business.

Right now, I'm caught up with both hands entagled in my hair as I try to see in the mirror where to put that damn hairclip. I feel with a free finger, turn from left to right and back again and wish Jaxxon was here to hold another mirror for me. He wouldn't mind at all if I prepared for the reaping at his place, but sadly our parents do. I'm not an adult, so I can't leave whenever I want.

Finally I find the spot and put in the clip, the last part to complete the neat half-updo. It highlights perfectly how the colours shift from top to bottom, with no black leaving the top of my head, but blonde falling down to the middle of my back.

One of the visiting Capitolites once told me how pretty that was and I could barely remember to smile at him and move on, while I wished to tell him how I for sure didn't do anything just so he could find it _pretty_. No, I do it for me, and for the love of fashion.

Sadly, that is not how it's layed out in the public. We are the place where the tourists go, the picture the Government paints of District eight on Capitol TV, where they pretend everything is fine and well, where the fashionable citizens try to imitate their idols as best as they can, while adding their own spice to it.

Well, at least I know that I'm not imitating anyone and that has to be enough.

"Roxx!" My father storms into my room suddenly and only stops once he's right under my nose, so I breathe in the piece of dust he holds in his hand.

I cough, lean to the side while trying to loose the itching particles, get them out of my system. When I'm able to breathe again, I take a closer look at what my father has brought. Dust. Hair. A dead fly – all sticking together in the form of a ball of dirt.

"I'm sorry, dad. I didn't get to sweep the floor yet. I wanted to get ready for the reaping. I thought I'd do it afterwards," I explain myself before he can even open his mouth again. He still decides to scream back at me.

"Have you lost your mind? It's too late after the reaping, we want to eat and then be done for the day. Do it now!"

"Just a few minutes, alright?" I say in the most calming tone I can think of, knowing that it is useless to argue. This is best - he won't get any angrier, I will have my peace.

"Two minutes." He nods and leaves, in a way that I'm never able to tell if it's approving or just satisfied, but that doesn't matter too much anyway.

* * *

**Poplin Ombre (14)**

**Mercy is too heavy a burden**

* * *

Weaver sighs loud and provocative, but nobody minds his behaviour. The tension is basically tangible, in what small space remains between us and our peers. Yet, I know the only way not to go crazy is to smile through it.

I pick up a tiny cobblestone and toss it up in the air, catch it again. The stage is almost empty, the few present officals are running around hectically and told us to have some patience.

"They can't even be punctual when it's about their entertainment? I mean, you think we are boring to them?" I ask my best friend and raise my arms in overplayed despair.

"Hey, they might call it off if you're right," he shrugs, a grin plastered on his face as usual.

After our first year at the reaping was horrible, we decided to treat this day like we would any other. Don't worry to much, just go with the given. For me, it also is a way of showing them what I'm made of. I don't know about Weaver, but I refuse to be frightened just because they want me to be. One in a few thousands – it's more a psycho game than a real threat. That said, of course it isn't for the poor soul who is actually reaped.

"So, who wants to make a guess about what colour our dear Pompeius is wearing?" I hold up the cobblestone and point to it. "You can win this beautiful stone here – a real piece of nature."

A few faces turn towards me and Weaver comes to help.

"What do you think?" he aks and points to a scrawny brunette boy beside me. He seems to be shy, or just scared, but manages to open his mouth anyway.

"Yellow, maybe?"

"I hear yellow! Any other opinions?"

"Yeah, he has never been in yellow. Pink."

"Pink and yellow," someone shouts from a few rows behind.

"Purple."

I try to remember what they're all saying and to my luck there is finally order on the stage. From the corner of my eye I can see Pompeius hastily jogging to the microphone. "Sorryweneedtospeedthisup, " he blurts and immediatley starts the video.

He wears Pink. I look around to find a boy who whispers "yes!" under his breath and toss over the cobblestone to him. He actually manages to catch it. Weaver beside me nods, impressed.

"Silence." A dark voice, distorted through the helmet he wears. The peacekeeper does sound menacing, yet I only shrug at him. Today, he will have better things to do than punish noisy teenagers. Like making sure that the tributes don't run. Like being stonecold while children are led to their death.

I direct my attention to the stage, where Pompeius is tapping his foot, wiggling his hips, already at the girls' reaping bowl. When the video goes out he visibly sighs, then winks into one of the cameras before he starts his traditional _lucky-run _around the bowl. On the one side it's hilarious, on the other side I'd really like to know what they do to these people in the Capitol. You can't tell me that he's all right in his mind.

"And the winner is...Blairoxx Alvena!" He announces triumphantly and holds up the piece of paper.

A piece with a death sentence on it. I breath out – at least not someone I know. Now the usual drama begins and I do my best not to be fazed by it. The girl who is chosen walks out from the section of the sixteen year-olds and appears surprisingly calm. Don't the rich ones always cry in disbelief? Because otherwise, everything about her screams: rich girl.

There is a cry from the far back, though, definetly male, but I don't turn to find out more. She turns at the sound and the camera has already zoomed in on her face, which twitches for a second and betrays her calm manner. Then she controls it again, bringing her expression back to unreadable.

"Oh, congratulations my dear! Don't you look pretty? Here, take this." Pompeius hands her her reaping ticket, which she takes whith a scowl, putting it into the pocket of her dress quickly.

I don't applaude with the others. This is not an occasion to applaude, not even because this time, one of the privileged upper class is tribute. They might be snobs, but they don't deserve the Hunger Games any more than we do.

I want to scold myself, for again, I know the reaping mood got a hold of me. I can't let that happen, so I turn to Weaver for support. He smiles back at me and wiggles his hips.

* * *

**Blairoxx Alvena (16)**

**She is not blinded by false mercy**

* * *

It's unreal and I feel as if I see the world through an invisible fog, which just clouds my thoughts, not actually my eyes. Jaxxons' scream echoes through my head, but I need to concentrate on what matters more now. The camera, disturbingly close to my face. Its' black lense appears to want to swallow me, but I won't let that happen.

In school the teachers always tell us about how we are the Capitols' chosen ones, how they want us to have everything we need in order to feel good, like fair payment and working conditions. Well, this carepackage doesn't include exemption from the Hunger Games. I knew this could happen – it was just a question of time until someone from our quater got their ticket drawn.

Maybe it's best that it was me of all people.

"Now, on to the boys!" the escort guy announces and does a strange dance across the stage.

Oh yeah, I will get a comrade to fight by my side...or at least just someone who also must enter the Hunger Games. I want to close my eyes and cross my fingers that he'll be useful, but instead I watch carefully.

"Uh, what do we have here, what _do _we have here? One lucky Poplin Ombre!" he whoops with glee.

Immediatley I search the rows for said boy and at first I think he is one of those who have to be taken to the stage by peacekeepers, but then someone from the fourteen year-olds moves. His mouth hangs open, hands limb by his side, but rather tall for his age. Still, only fourteen. I had hoped for someone older. His clothes scream working class. He tucks back a strand of long, dark hair behind his ear and visibly breathes, in and out, probably to calm himself.

He seems to have collected himself as he walks up and stands directly in front of me, grins, then turns to face the crowd. All of that is gone as Pompeius taps him on the shoulder, though. Poplin takes his reaping ticket with a withering glare and closes his fist around it.

"Oh, my beautiful tributes! Guys, applaude for them!"

With reluctance I let him place me beside him, Poplin on the other side. The camera zooms in, I can see my all our faces on the big screens. I bat my eyelashes a little and put on a weak smile, pretending like I'm not sure wether to be flattered by the attention or scared of it. This will all be a great acting game – who can fake it the best?

I'm honestly interested to see what my role will be like. Right now I can play out several options in my head, but I will need to decide on one quickly. If I want to make it consistent, I need to head out of the Justice Building with a plan.

* * *

**Poplin Ombre (14)**

**Mercy is too heavy a burden**

* * *

Why does it feel like a brick wall crushed over me, even though I still have at least a week to live? Yeah...I don't think that optimism thing is my cup of tea. I'm basically dead already, at least for most of Panem. I might have a chance to change their minds and extend that time period, but it's tiny.

Despite the shock I think I played the Game well back on stage, but can I handle that for the whole upcoming week? And throughout the arena as well? Why do I even accept being in the Games, so simply, without any protest?

I guess the answer is way too obvious. There is no running without consequences, so we all do our best to be the most likeable darlings we can be.

The clock in this room is a digital one, therefore not making any sound that would tell me how the time passes. I turn to look outside, since the small window still gives a good view over the reaping place – it's clearing quickly, people heading home to escape back into their normal lifes. They should all stay and mourn their innocent tributes, but who am I to think like that? I wouldn't dare do it myself.

When I didn't even expect it anymore, the door opens after all. My Mom comes in and as she looks at me I can see she has already wiped her tears. Only her red, puffy eyes give away that she's sad for me, but they looked way worse two years ago. My father follows after her. I hate how he looks at me like he doesn't know if he should be happy or sad. But he is here, at least. That must mean something.

"I know I've hold you a hundred times already, but it really wasn't my fault. Me and Weaver didn't have a single thing to do with that fire", I blurt out, my chest growing tense immediatley. Shoot, should I have said that? But I haven't tried talking to him in month. Should we really be able to reconsiliate with each other today? Damn, that would be ironic.

"Whoever it was is running around unpunished. Have you ever thought about that I loved Looma too? If it was my fault that she's dead, I couldn't run around all happy and not-caring."

There is silence after my words, and Mom is the one who moves first. She touches my shoulder just slightly.

"Lin, I don't think this is the right moment to talk about that topic again, huh?" she breathes, calming like she wants to shush a stupid child. "I wish you the best of luck. Maybe after the Games..."

I feel unearthed, what is she even talking about? How dare she say that? I watch my parents leave, talking a step back to fall into a soft plush chair that is supposed to be comforting, I guess. Cold, uneasy air flows into my body and I clutch my hands to fists, then puch into the padded armrests. I still get through to the wood underneath.

* * *

**I got both of those tributes written quite fast and feel confident with them, even though they didn't make for a super long chapter this time around. I hope you enjoyed them :) **

**For a longer note, head over to the next chapter. **


	13. Chapter 13 - District 7 Reaping

**Luna Hayden (18)**

**She buried her mercy**

* * *

There is nothing worse than getting out of bed an knowing I have no pain left to feel. All gone. All healed up. But the first meager breath I take consciously still makes me want to curl up into a ball of self-pity. My brother shot me, I have one lung left and today is reaping day – so why am I feeling so physically fine?

I roll over to the edge of my bed, swing my legs over and get out some jeans, a white top and my favourite grey jacket. It's an everyday look, but factory jobs don't pay as well as the work outside and there is no money to buy me an ugly sack of coloured linen.

I hurry into the bathroom next – at least on reaping day there is running water. One walk less to go for, for the well is quite far from this little house and leaves me breathless every time. On the shelf next to my desk is that saving grace I take to live through the day. Pain medication, and they still give it to me as long as I pretend to feel anguish with my condition.

It's a miracle they could fix me at all, that's what they said, because a pierced lung is nothing common even here in District seven, where we handle weapons on an everyday basis. Putting two pills into my mouth, I add some water from the sink to get them down and let myself calm a bit. It will take some minutes until their effect kicks in – consoling warmth flows through my body then and a bit of light-headedness with it.

Makes me forget how life goes, and I dreadfully think about that hatchet of mine, which I used to love swinging at the woods, happy and hopeful, with the knowledge that my brother and I had escaped the orphanage and were about to build our own lifes. But that wasn't to be and everything always goes against the plans you have. Especially when other people are involved.

It is terribly silent at home today. I had thought that maybe, since everyone was home, they would get out and talk, children would play on the streets, but it seems they rather stay inside, just waiting for time to pass, so they can move on – like me. Though I don't know how much time has to pass for me to move on. Is it another year?

I wish I had a mirror to see my hair while I put it up into a bun, carefully feeling every single soft strand. At least that I can trust – it looks exactly like I want it to and like I remember it.

So should I go to the market place already? I ponder for a while and my fingers on the wooden table are the only noise in the house. Finally I'm too annoyed to wait another minute. I get up, open the front door and look into the bright sunshine. Urgh.

"What a terrible weather", I say out loud, totally aware that it earns me strange gazes from the few human beings who are out already as well.

Wary to keep my distance from them, I walk along the dry earth roads. Every fiber in my body tingles as I do so. Especially in the arms and my hands twitch to curl into fists, which I don't allow them to do. This is an open street and I don't need to fear anyone. Still...it's super open and if someone was to plan on hurting me...the bright daylight, in combination with people being busy on reaping day would make for a perfect set up, wouldn't it? Nobody expects it.

I walk on and what used to be small groups turns into a mass of families, couples old and young, groups from our social service homes, and so on. But then there's also me, alone, no one to talk to, neither in a scared nor optimistic voice - not that I wanted to even if I had someone left. It's just another day and if you make a fuss about it, it still doesn't change. They will reap you or they won't. It's likely they won't. My brother and I always had...

Oh dear heavens!

I stop dead in my tracks, look around in a panic, there needs to be some place where I can hide from him. Solace stands there, bright brown hair and equally brown eyes, just like a male version of myself, and alone just like myself too. My mouth drys out in a matter of seconds. So he's alive!

I finally get to the corner of a house, into the shadows where I can feel save.

Why did I even think he might be dead? I had imagined to be able to talk to him again, but I guess I never even considered it could happen in real life. I assumed that him sooting me had seperated us forever. A heavy weight drops off my heart at that moment, yet it doesn't make breathing any easier. What am I to do now?

I dare to look again. His expression is pained, exactly like it used to look, but is he still the same? Maybe, after two years we could talk it out? I straighten my back and take a few determined steps towards him.

"Solace..."

And then it is all gone in an instant. All the bravery I thought I had, all the anger, and I stare down, looking at the black boots on my feet and not into his face, because it is angry, and accusing, and I know it.

"I don't talk to murderers", he spits, but I am unable to counter his remarks. I couldn't even tell him how he is the same, because failed murder isn't murder after all, right? And of course, I did kill his beloved Bella. They hadn't made her an Avox for nothing, and we were stupid children. It was the only way, still. I saved Solaces' life, at the expense of his love.

I open my mouth and close it again, though he is way faster than I am. Solace pushes past me, so close his shoulder touches mine, and my legs give in at the sudden hit, making me feel the impact as my butt lands in the dirt. Ooof. First thing, my lung screams for air. _I need to get up, I need to grab him and make him talk to me! _I want to scream at myself internally, yet I can't command myself to get angry.

So I just sit there until the reaping bells make the final call.

* * *

**Wolf Axehandler (17)**

**Real mercy is different from what imagination tells you**

* * *

I intently pick at the sleeves of my shirt as I refuse to stare at the big screens like everybody else. It shows a close up of our Districts newly named female tribute, who keeps a remarkably hostile expression up on her face. Seconds pass in which I a seam comes loose, bespeaking the terrible quality of that piece of clothing.

I scowl and stop, not wanting to destroy it completely. Mom would make all hell break loose if I did.

"And now, for the boys...," our escort lady announces in her silly Capitol accent and I wonder how her voice can still be that loud despite the piercing high pitch. "It's Wolf Axehandler!"

I can basically feel my eyeballs grow bigger at the sound of my name. For real? I command my feet to move, but what a strange happenstance. I thought my handling of the tesserae was quite good, so it would be unlikely that my name would be drawn.

But the Capitol always has to go against the normal way of things, so why am I even surprised? It's just so strange, finding myself up on the stage a year earlier than I had planned, looking into this sea of people who all are highly interested in me in that moment.

I wish I could have asked grandma how she felt back at her own reaping, but I was too young and then she died. Old. Peaceful. But still she's dead now, her victory no more than a fading memory of days in which the Hunger Games were still young. How long will they continue to read her name at the beginning of the reapings before they cut the list short? District seven did have other victors, Pan Cook and Mistle Quayle, who will be my mentors now.

"Smile! Shake hands!"

Our Escort appears in my visual field like a flash of neon and I rapidly turn away to avoid being blinded. Yellow and pink make for an especially painful combination – I'll have to find a way to make her wardrobe less offensive to my eyes. Not an easy task, I imagine.

For now I just roll my eyes, careful not to look at the escort lady directly, and instead focus on my fellow tribute, Luna.

Up close she looks rather insignificant with light brown eyes that work hard to appear hostile, and simple jeans, topped with a white shirt. Only her black hair is done in some complex bun, several braids joint together, so intricate they're out of place with the rest of her outfit.

We do shake hands then, only for a quarter of a second, but at least she has a tight grip. A tingling sensation rushes through my whole body as I think about how we will have to kill each other in about a week. This is honestly so screwed up.

I'm quick to follow the peacekeepers as soon as we're allowed to leave the stage, desperately in need of some alone time to clear my mind. I never was sure wether or not I wanted this, enter the Hunger Games, that is. What I always knew was that I wanted to do it on my own terms, if at all, and not be a mere figure chosen to play their Game. But now that I'm here, how am I going to go about it?

"It for sure doesn't mean I have to let them reduce me to a figure. I can still fight for Corneille an myself," I speak my thoughts out into the tiny room to which they brought me. It has to be still safe here, right? No cameras, no one to watch me.

"You better do that with everything you have. We could finally get out of that sorry excuse for a life if you bring back that money from your victory," my mothers' voice sounds even while she opens the door. Here we go again.

I walk towards the door to meet her in the middle of the room and stare up into her hard, dull eyes of an overworked woman.

"Have you ever thought about that I hate it even more than you do? I never new anything else than luxury before grandma died and I'll tell you what, I even was ready to volunteer next year. Well, now I'm here a bit earlier, but it doesn't change a thing. I'm going to win for Corneille, because she doesn't deserve even a piece of your blame!"

"It's not about blame, it's about facts, Wolf. Her wheelchair cost all the money we were allowed to take. If it wasn't for her, we would have had a better life."

My teeth press so hard on each other that I think they might break. For sure she's getting none of that money I bring back – I'll make sure of that.

"What a terrible excuse! Corneille deserves better than that."

Before she can respond, both of our heads turn to the door, where father has entered, a dreadful look on his face. He's alone.

"They said they couldn't get her up here. The wheelchair is too big and heavy, so if I wanted to see you I needed to leave her downstairs", he explains and immediatley I feel the tears rushing into my eyes.

Should I never see my sweet sister again? No, that can't be happening. I wanted to hug her, to give her and me the strength to get through the coming weeks.

"What? So who is with her?" I ask with my throat feeling tight.

"Your brother and his wife, don't worry. I am to tell you all the best wishes and they can't wait to see you back here for your victory banquet." Father turns to search for something in his pocket and produces a gold coated bracelet out of it. "Here. This is the perfect token...think about us, yes?"

"I will. Please tell Corneille that I will miss her. And the others as well. When I come back, we'll move to a beautiful house in the victors village and maybe the Capitol can help her condition.", I tell father, than give a small nod to my mother.

I examine my token and recognise it from my grandmothers' jewellry collection. _'Reena, Campion, Quail, Wolf, Corneille' _it says on the inside, and on the outside is what my goal will be. _'Victory.'_

* * *

**I'm back! **

**Gymnastics Worlds were super fun to watch, though it meant I basically didn't get any writing done during that time. Still, since it was such a long wait for you, I decided that you still get the double chapters as promised.**

**I had a little trouble with Luna because partly this was a scene mentioned in her form, and I couldn't see how this would play out for quite a while. But now it's done and I hope it turned out good. ****As for Wolf, it was kind of hard to find phrase that would fit him – not sure if I like it, but it was the best I could come up with. **

**Now, there are still things I want to say, so starting right now, since this is already a long note. **

**1) I realised I never said thank you to everyone who reviewed this story. I means so much that you take the time to comment on my work and greatly motivates me to go on. Also, thanks to everyone who just reads in silence. While I do love to hear from many people, I get that it takes time to write a review and you people have a real life too. **

**2) You might have heard of it at this point, but there are SYOT Awards being held for 2019. Nomination starts on November 9th and since most of you probably have read more stories than I did, you might actually have ideas whom to nominate. You can find all the information here: topic/198935/178581507/1/SYOT-Awards-2019**

**3) Next chapter will be the last reaping! Aaaah! Real action starts soon and I can't wait for all these tributes to meet each other. **

**Are there any specific ones you would want to see interact?**


	14. Chapter 14 - District 9 Reaping

**Marigold Rye (14)**

**She is merciful**

* * *

Even though the soft grey dawn still decks the sky, I come across several people on their way through the streets, which change from asphalt pavement to cobblestones, to dirt. I'd rather look up, but I see how that is not a good idea, since I'd be in danger of running into someone. I really want to avoid that.

With the brown leather bag hidden under my jacket, clutched tightly to my chest, I arrive at Aelia's home safely. It's a small thing, not smaller than any of the others around here, but in contrast to them, the windows are still shut and even the front door has an unwelcoming feel to it, despite there being nothing different with it.

I swallow and lift my hand to knock, as my heart sinks. I wish I didn't have to be here. Last year at this time, Aelia and I met about an hour later, at my place, sitting side by side at breakfast. Now, her mother opens with a tired expression turning into a weak smile at the sight of me.

"Mari, dear. Come in," she says simply and leads me to their living room, where everyone else is gathered around a table, laid with bread, butter and some milk. I hold back with the grimacing at the thick, greasy smell of the butter and instead wish them a good morning.

"Thank you for inviting me," I add and take off my jacket, laying the bag with my flute onto the sofa before I sit between Aelia's parents, her father giving me a short hug as greeting.

I stare down at the empty plate in front of me, ashamed that I can't recall his name anymore. Her mother is Haylee and her oldest brother, whom she liked to talk about so much, is Turnip. He must be eleven now, I think. Bria and Milla sit side by side, they must be less then a year apart from each other and luckily, look nothing like their eldest sister. While I truly love that they invited me, I have to admit that the house itself is more than enough to bring back all the now painful memories my best friend and I made here.

"We thought it would be the right thing. Since you two wanted to go back and forth with invitations on reaping day...we thought it would be a nice tradition to keep."

Her father explains with a genuine smile and I take the slice of bread he offers me, considering if I should try to dip it into the milk, so it won't be that dry. At the same time, I look around. Is that a good idea? Right now all I feel is pain, and the wish that Aelia would just walk up to us, excusing herself that she again slept in. But of course, it's not going to happen. I feel like her family is thinking the same. Maybe, if we meet up more often, we can share some of our grief?

And would it be a good idea to invite them back? While we were friends for several years, our parents never really talked much to each other. Still, I guess they would get along well and maybe it's a relief for them to get out of the house, where every corner reminds them of their eldest daughter.

"You're welcome to come to my place next year, then. I mean, my parents would agree for sure," I offer.

"Oh, that's so cool," Milla utters, her mouth forming an O-shape, which she quickly abandons at the glare of her mother.

"That'd be nice, Mari. Go ask your mother first, you don't need to promise anything now."

I nod, it's probably best. We all go back to eating and I stare at the childrens' bedrooms through the corner of my eye. I used to be early and knock on the window, Aelia still cuddled up in her blanket and groaning, while her siblings all laughed with me. I'd pick her up for school most of the days that way – which left me with quite a hole in my morning rhythm. Now I just sit in our backyard, looking up at the sky as it turns from grey to orange to blue.

"Do ya' want another slice of bread?" Turnip asks and I quickly shake my head.

"No, thanks." I decline, looking at the scarce rest. I pray that my stomach doesn't betray me, but they don't need to know that I have plenty of reasons to wait until I get back home to fill it.

"I brought my flute. If you want to, I can play us something," I offer, switching topics instead.

"Is it in that leather bag there?" Mia asks and I nod.

"Yeah, it's for safekeeping. I like to play a lot, it always makes me happy," I explain to her and the whole family. If I remember correctly they never heard me play anything, since Aelia and I did the music stuff at my place, mostly. I used to find it far too dangerous to carry something of that value through half of the District.

"Sure, then."

I stand up, noticing all of their gazes resting on me in anticipation, true happiness that I brought something to get their minds off of the leaden atmosphere that must be hanging around here all the time. I manage to smile to myself as I put the flute to my mouth.

* * *

**Miles Gader (16)**

**Mercy is a whim**

* * *

"You will wear those shoes, end of story."

Thump. Father sets the pair down in front of me with a finality I can't speak against. Not that I ever managed to do so in earlier years – I know that the reaping is the one occasion where it is wise to wear shoes. Stiff, dark brown, shiny patent-leather shoes.

"I will get blisters all over my feet," I state as I awkwardly sit down to put them on.

"You'll live."

That's true, no question about it. It is obvious to my feet that these shoes have only been worn once, which was last year, because of a growth spurt. The doctor tells me I can expect another one, but he doesn't know when, since boys might develop even until early adulthood, so maybe we'll pass them on sooner or later. The rough cotton of my socks already starts to rub against my heels, but looking at father I shouldn't complain – we are happy to have what we have and I'm old enough to grit my teeth for a few hours.

"Will Kayden join us?" father asks as he adjusts his tie and gets mothers' jacket, ready to leave the house.

"No, I believe he and his grandparents wanted to start earlier. They're not as good with walking anymore."

Father nods and looks around, searching for mother, who I've last seen doing her hair in the bathroom, but she might have gone out to talk to some neighbours as well, I'm not sure. So I suggest he'll look outside and I look inside, seperating us and giving me the chance to go to my room for a brief moment, just to check that everything is well there.

He turns, stops right before the threshold to bow his head, an old fashioned gesture towards the wooden cross which hangs above. Reaping day is the only day he does it, more out of superstition than real belief, I think, because it is supposed to grant protection and who couldn't use that on a day like this. It's a cruel day for at least two children and their families and one where everybody feels on edge.

As soon as he is gone I turn and hurry to my room, just to find it empty. So Hensly has left. Everything appears to be cleaned up, even the sheets which I had layed out on the floor for him to sleep on are neatly folded and on my own bed again, the saucer on which I brought in some sandwiches empty. Good, at least that means he can spend the day with a full belly.

About to clear away the evidence my secret guest left, I halt to find a slip of paper underneath, with barely readable words scribbled down, because it seems as if Hensly didn't get much of an education. '_Thank you' _it says and immediatley my heart warms up with pride. Like most of those who come to me for shelter, he wasn't the most talkative, so I'm not sure what exactly is going on at his actual home, but I don't need to know that – what matters is that this poor kid could feel save for a night because of me, and that he hopefully will tell others to come to here, should they need an escape.

It only takes me a few seconds to get out of my room again and from the chatter which comes from outside I can tell that father already was sucessful in finding my mother. I hurry to join them, with the reaping now looming over my mind like a dark shadow.

* * *

**Marigold Rye (14)**

**She is merciful**

* * *

We stand huddled together and sweat runs down my face, yet I feel the coldest I ever have in my life. There has been the video, the speech of our mayor and through all of it Aelia and I used to hold hands. But now she isn't here, and even though my classmates are friends, kind of, we aren't that close.

Our Escorts' name is Ophelia and she seems to think that a bright yellow is the colour to go with in District 9. As far back as I can remember, she hasn't worn anything else. Her puffy blouse almost makes her hair vanish, golden locks which jump up and down when she walks, with that enthusiastic smile of hers.

Please let it be someone I don't know. I couldn't live through loosing another person in my life, not one of my classmates, not the neighbour girls and especially not Falla, who must be just a few rows in front of me with the older girls. My cousin has been there for me and she is the only one who it's still simple to talk to. She doesn't deserve the Hunger Games.

"And this years' female tribute is...Marigold Rye!" Ophelia announces, her voice rings like a thousand bells.

Me. That is me. For all the wishes I made, I never thought it would be my name which is reaped. I've got three tickets, which is less than almost anybody else, how can it be me? How can I, all of a sudden, already know when I'm going to die and where it will happen? Just a few seconds ago I had no clue I needed to cocern myself with that – those are not thoughts a child should have.

They put me right onto the big screen as I walk up to the stage, and I check to see if I look like I feel, which I do. My shoulders fall down in defeat, the corners of my mouth dropped down and I could swear my hair falls a little more flat, and less glossy, but surely that must be my imagination.

Ophelias' hands are surprisingly soft as she helps me up, but the only thing I can think of is not to cry. Just a bit longer, no tears, because they won't change anything.

"Now, let's see if we can get this young lady a gentleman to her side. How about..." Her hand hovers over the reaping bowl for an eternity, but finally she picks out a ticket and reads it. "Miles Gader!"

I swallow as she says the name, luckily I don't know it, but still, who is it that will go with me? We are going to die in that same arena, in the same week probably, and this moment feels just so important to me, I can't really describe it.

When he finally moves, I might stare a little too much, but it's relieving that he's the typical District 9 boy, just like me, dark skin and dark hair, but it is in a strange hairstyle that I haven't seen before. He could look friendly, if it weren't for his shocked face, which seems frozen with big eyes and slightly open mouth.

Marigold Rye and Miles Gader. Tributes for the Hunger Games. That doesn't sound right in my ears, even as Ophelia announces it with her microphone. She makes us shake hands, though be both avoid looking at each other and I can barely hold back the tears anymore, which is why I need to leave this stage quickly.

* * *

**Miles Gader (16)**

**Mercy is a whim**

* * *

After my parents are gone, I sit quietly, but with the tough schedule they are not willing to give me an emotional break. Kayden closes the door behind him and stands with his back right to it as he looks at me, tears glistening in his eyes.

"I...I don't know what to say", he starts, but at least he can speak.

I don't think I'm able to do that, so I simply look back, then again look away, since it is too hard to bear. Everything about my best friend is so familar, from his looks to his voice, to his smell, but we both don't belong here, into this cold and sparce room, with a peacekeeper outside to keep watch.

Only a few days ago I had thought I desperately needed to talk to Kayden, to get those thoughts out of the way, about him acting strange around me. How that is definetly wrong and maybe I was just making things up, but wanted to get them clear once and for all. But then I wavered in my decision – would that really be necessary? He has to know me well enough to see that I wouldn't be one for a relationship and of course, he knows my father is that way as well. Kayden is intelligent, he must see that.

Now would be another chance. Talking is what we are usually good at, but I'm lacking the capacity to get out a single word in this moment, because I'm probably going to die and the future doesn't matter anymore. Maybe it can matter again, but to be realistic, that is at least a few weeks away.

Kayden moves a few steps and wipes aways his tears, though the next ones roll up already and wet his clothes, in which he looks like a real scholar. It suits him.

"It's not a token that will last very long, but I handpicked it myself", he says surprisingly firm and holds out a stunning marigold flower, in bright orange and with yellow tips, a full set of petals, though some look a little weak, like they haven't been nourished for some time.

I take it from his hand and admire it from all angles, it is truly beautiful and better than any material token anyone could have given me. And that is that. I attach it to the small pocket of my suit, where it fits perfectly.

Then I do the only thing I know is right, and that is hug my best friend. We won't see each other for a long time, if at all again, and I will miss him for sure.

* * *

**Last. Reaping. We. Are. Done!**

**Woah, I'm so overwhelmed to have gotten so far already and now the real action can begin. This chapter feels different to me, though I don't really know why – maybe it's just my imagination :D I'm overall happy with how it turned out and while Mari was a quick writing session, Miles was super difficult to get started on. I still feel insecure with him.**

**Next week will be the first train ride chapter and you will also get results from the first Sponsor bet, which was about the number of volunteers. There will be another bet to follow this one immediatley, and maybe some general update infos.**

**Until then, I'd love to hear from you!**


	15. Chapter 15 - Train Rides Part 1

_The most merciful thing in the world, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. _

_\- H. P. Lovecraft_

* * *

**Leela Garmin (15) – D3**

* * *

The amount of surmounting effort it cost me to enter the train is still fresh in my memory, but now that I'm inside, I'm starstruck. I don't know what I expected, but for not that the walls to be a soothing blue, the carpet fuzzy and embroided with introcate silver circle patterns, and there is an a whole section furnished like a luxurios living room.

I take a few careful steps, almost expecting it to vanish, but it is actually real. So this is how much they care about us, once that we become tributes...they'd not give me as much as a proper chair to sit on when I was Leela the orphan, but now that my ticket was drawn and I graduated to be Leela the tribute, my chair is metallic silver with a cushion on it, a white porcelain plate set on the table and I spy several pieces of cutlery which I don't even know what to use for.

"I know this must all be amazing to you, but please don't stand in the door like that", the high pitched voice of our Escort comes from behind me as she gently grabs my shoulders to slip past me.

I duck and move away quickly. "Don't touch me."

She raises a unnatural yellow eyebrow, but moves on without another comment to sit next to Nike. He already took a place in one of those chairs and in contrast to our Escort, at least his outfit fits with the colors of the train. It is obvious he cried a lot. His eyes are swollen an puffy, but now he bites down hard on his lips, trying to make a tough face. He fails miserably.

Since we three are the only people in the room right now, I take the opportunity and grab a place opposite of him, leaving a free chair on each side from me, so Blizz and Wiress will have to take those. Hopefully they'll be the kind of protection wall I need from these odd individuals.

"Hi, I'm Nike", the strange boy introduces himself, sounding a little croaky but rather friendly. Why is he doing this? Who is he even? If he wasn't out to kill me in a few days, he'd be exactly the kind of person I'd avoid.

"I know that from the reaping", I say instead. "Why did you think your name being pulled was a mistake?"

Even though I might want to not talk to him at all, I know it is crucial to get to know him at least a bit. Don't make enemies that early on. Reminding myself to blink in order not to scare him, I watch his eyes tear up again, but he clenches them a few seconds and swallows hard, as if determined to answer me.

"I thought I couldn't be reaped...I thought you only got tickets from requesting extra luxuries, but we bought all of them from our own money. My Mom inherited a lot from her parents, you know?"

No, I didn't. I stayed clear from the richer quarter of the District and it's not like I was ever interested in who owned what. But at least that explains how he is dressed like he is...though it doesn't why his parents let him live with an Illusion like that. Stupid people. The real world is a hard place and even in Panem one can't hide behind money forever.

"Well, everyone gets reaping tickets, one for each year. There is no way to get around it and I don't think you could buy yourself out of it with any amount of money", I explain to him and it is just so fascinating how his expression shows that he actually never heard of that before. Nike takes a glass of water and a few minutes to recollect himself.

I must look equally uncomfortable. No one should be that uninformed in Panem. And if he doesn't know about how the reaping works, what else is there that is new to him?

"I don't think my parents new that...it's so terrible I had to leave them behind. And my cat, Flower. So you also did not take extra luxuries, right?"

He points at me, and my dress, a hand-me-down given out from the Community Home, made out of simple white cotton. The only accessoire is the band around my waist.

"Hm, no I had to take tesserae every year, if you mean that. They still made us take care of our own at the orphanage. But a ration of grain and oil can't really be described as 'luxuries'", I answer after some careful consideration. That kind of information can't hurt, though.

But why again am I giving that to him? For the sake of not being enemies...at least not any more than we already have to be. I wouldn't have guessed that I'd be thankful for more people around one day, but as Blizz and Wiress, our Mentors, enter, our conversation stops.

It doesn't feel interrupted at all, though. There certainly is a lot more to find out about Nike. For now I've seen enough to know that he is not the possible ally I had hoped for. Someone with that amount of unworldlieness will do miserably in the arena. He's too strange to be trusted and too useless to risk anything for. It's foreign to think about a person like that, but the simple truth is that his death will serve me better than his help.

I just need to pray there will be other help I can find. In form of the Mentors, maybe some other tributes. Maybe even that escort Lady, though the thought makes me shudder in cold panic.

* * *

**Jade Dove (18) – D2**

* * *

The screaming has been going on for a few minutes now and I stand behind the closed doors of my train apartment, unsure if I should wait it out or join them.

"You could've let him volunteer for you, you insolent brat!" Cain shouts and I imagine his wild gestures, restricted by the tight black suit, as he paces up and down the dining wagon. He was around at the Academy all the time, and sometimes a guest of my fathers' as well, so the victors' nervous habits are quite familiar to me.

"No. People wanted me here, so I am. You don't understand." I hear Amran answer, my unplanned for District partner, way too young, stubborn and dangerous. What did I do to deserve this?

I dig my nails into my palms, he shouldn't be here and it is totally unfair. Bolt and I had trained together, the first person in the Academy who treated me with respect in years. Now he got cheated out of his place by this boy, who seems to believe he knows everything. Well, it's probably best I show him how wrong he is in truth.

"What do you even mean?", Marcella asks the moment I enter. The whole team stands in a semi circle around the dining table, but no one sits. I squeeze in between her and Salem, our escort, who is the only one who makes himself smaller in this heated atmosphere. Everyone else seems to try and grow at least an inch.

"If you're talking about the reaping being rigged, no it wasn't. Nobody wants you here, especially not me or my father", I offer an answer for our female mentor, who was staring at Amran up until now, but all faces turn to face me at those words. Have I said something wrong? No one looks pleased at the explanation, though they say nothing.

Aren't they supposed to continue arguing right now? But then it strikes me: they are waiting to explain myself a little more, since of course they cannot be in knowledge of our families' past.

"My father is an honourable man – that's why he's the mayor, you know? - and he would certainly not seek revenge on you, even for crippling his nephew. So no, your reaping was entirely random and you have robbed me of a trustworthy District partner."

"I still trained... and I wouldn't have wanted someone else to take my place away. Most are too arrogant to win. I couldn't have earned a volunteer spot outside the Academy." It is strange to me how he raises his arms in a supposedly defensive gesture while his face remains the same – calm, neutral. Now what is that supposed to mean?

"Excuse me, but who is the arrogant person in this room?"

I can't help but notice how both Marcella and Cain have gone silent over our conversation, watching with crossed arms, even though this was their argument to begin with. I came to help them...now they should help me, right? But it is Salem who speaks up, the first words I hear him say after the reaping and I immediatly deem them unhelpful.

"Well, maybe it is best if we sort this mess out over dinner? I'm hungry and the food is getting cold."

But I'm not fast enough to open my mouth, as Cain intervenes:"And that's why, everyone, why we choose our volunteers – to avoid exactly what is happening now. Our tributes are supposed to stick together, abide by the rules, represent our strength and unity. Can you imagine the gossip that's happening right now? So, Salem is right, it's best we get this sorted out quickly, discuss your allying terms and then move on."

I open my mouth and close it again. Move on, seriously? I watch them all sit down, even Amran takes a chair and starts to inspect food choices. Why am I the one who has to pay for all of his insolences now? I did nothing wrong! I lift my chin and shake my head in disbelief.

"Under no circumstances will I ally with a criminal and a rule breaker. He's no better than a worthless outlier."

"Jade, calm down. You have a couple of days to get to know..."

"No! Listen to me, Marcella, Cain. I'm the rightful volunteer here _and_ the mayos' daughter. I expect you to be on my side on this. You can't really be thinking about helping him instead of me?" I breath deeply, but am confident with how I got those words ordered. That should have some effect on them.

"This is not about choosing one or the other. We are a unity as a District. If you work together, we can help you both the best", Cain answers.

"You know what? I don't want to ally with you, Jade. All the outliers are better choices anyway", Amran shrugs as if he doesn't care. What? Even for someone like him that is pathetic. Us careers are the frontrunners and if I were him, I'd beg on my knees to be allowed to join us. Outliers, pah – at least now I can do him the honor and prove him wrong.

* * *

**Mira Gesby (14) – D10**

* * *

"Stop. Keep your greedy little fingers to yourself. No more food until tomorrow."

Wren pounds his heavy fist on the table and I jerk as it makes my plate and all the cuttlery jump. District tens' only victor has terribly clear rules, but does he bother to tell us before we break them? No. I alternate between staring angrily at him and at the spaghetti – there is a full silver bowl of them left and I'm definetly not done with all the different sauces.

"It's just normal Mira would be that voracious. Look at her, she probably never had a real meal in her entire life", Meat says smiling and now I feel like I need to include him in my staring as well.

My fellow tribute is known for his fathers' riches and a ton of other terrible things, but just because he feels so privileged about it doesn't mean he can assume I was starving. Oh, if he knew... but he clearly doesn't, so at least it means that I'm the uncontested mastermind in this room.

I know that he stupidly volunteered for his older brother, just because I saw it happen, but he doesn't know why I volunteered. I know that, coming out of a butchery, he probably can handle a machete or knives of some sort and is strong, but he doesn't know that I'm a thief. And I know that I just slipped a bread roll under my shirt, just for when I don't feel so stuffed anymore, but he doesn't know that and Wren doesn't know that either.

"Yeah, that's exactly the point. I don't want my tributes to embarass themselves first thing when they arrive in the Capitol, and throwing up would be exactly the way to do it", Wren remarks in this moment.

I grin. Yeah, I sure won't throw up anytime soon, at least not because of the food. The movements of the train on the other hand are causing me a bit of trouble.

"Good. So now that we are done eating, we need to stark talking strategy. Some general rules first: One, listen to me or you'll die. Two, listen to Maeve – who is wherever right now - or you'll die. Three, use your time in the Capitol wisely, or you'll die. Now, do you want to be mentored together or on your own?"

"Together."

"Alone."

Pfff. I can't help but snort at our contrary answers at the same time and Meats face is even funnier, as his mouth opens in disbelief.

"Why? I'm not gonna lie, I won't ally with you, but we're still part of the same District, I could offer to help you out in...", he starts, but I raise an eyebrow and put a finger to my mouth.

"Shhh. Haven't they told you? Don't spell part backwards – it's a trap! Hihi!"

With that I jump up from the table and am pleased to see Wren following to my very own train apartment. So I guess everything is going according to plan. It's unbelievable what we get here, plushed carpets, layers and layers of bed sheets and even outfits ranging from pretty normal stuff to the extravagant Capitol designs. I had thought about wearing one of those, but in the end decided to go with some comfortable clothes, so the highlight of my outfit is the shiny ring on my finger. There are several stones put into golden sockets, some red, some green, some blue – for what it's probably worth that Capitolite was very careless when he came visiting District 10.

"So, I already have a strategy, since I knew I had to volunteer a couple of days ago", I start our conversation as I make myself comfortable on my bed, with Wren taking a chair in front of me. His fat ass barely fits on it and I wonder if he's going to plummet to the floor anytime soon.

"Had to volunteer?" he asks. "Anyway you're going to want me to help you refine that strategy. If you don't like that, then don't follow my advice, but I will choose Meat then, which means you don't get any Sponsor gifts."

That must be the most confusing thing I have heard since that day in the justice building. "What do you mean you 'choose' him?"

"You see, only one of you can get out alive and I can't promote you both as potential victors to the Capitol people – that wouldn't be believable. So, now why don't you tell me what you have in mind?"

What he says does make sense, though I might be just fine without Sponsor gifts. What would they give me? Food? I can steal that from the other tributes. Matches? I probably won't make a fire. But better have them than not and a popularity race is probably something I can win. Not home in District 10, where most wouldn't take the risk being associated with thieves, but here in the Capitol and against someone like Meat? - I like my chances.

"I'm a thief. I'm small and quick. I can hide from the other tributes and if I see an opportunity to kill them, go for it. When they sleep, for example", I come back to the topic and offer him the basics of what I have thought of.

My sister Alicia had been sitting with me, tears in her eyes, but she said it would only be right for her to help me make up a strategy. If she hadn't trained me to steal, this wouldn't have happened in the first place, but of course then we might have starved. I blink away her image and smile proudly at my Mentor again.

He looks skeptical. "But you'll have to sleep as well, you know? Have you thought about allies? Allies can protect you, make you sleep easier."

"They're also probably loud like a herd of cows."

"So you think you are really that much better alone? Since I don't know you I'll have to believe you. Here's the deal: Go into training, make an ally – just anyone and you don't have to like them. You'll be more successful at the cornucopia together. The first night of the Games you decide if they are worth having and if not, you stab that tribute while they're asleep. Both ways this is a win for you."

Wren leans back into the chair, which creaks in response, arms crossed over his chest and his eyes narrowed down on me. I give him a smug smile, playing innocently with a strand of hair. It is simple but genius and that way winning will be as easy as stealing a bread roll.

"I like that", I simply say and offer him a high five. He doesn't take it, though, probably because adults can be serious little rinches sometimes, and lifts a warning finger.

"That confidence of yours is good, but don't take things too lightly. One last thing: I like that attitude of yours – keep that. If anything, be a little bit bolder. People don't expect someone who is that brash to also be treacherous."

* * *

**Warning, long Authors' note coming up ;) **

**I only realised I had chosen a bunch of girls for this after I wrote it, so what's done is done. I swear, you'll get boys in the next chapter. It was really fun to write these first interactions and it'll be even more fun once we get to mix up the Districts. **

**Now, before I started with tribute introductions, there was a bet about how many volunteers we would have and I have to say, no one was right here. With 9 volunteers overall, we have a huge number, but **Santiago** got the closest to that by betting on 7. So congrats – 20 points to you! **

**There is a new oportunity to get sponsor points right away, this time in form of a Quiz.**

_**Get to know the tributes – Quiz!**_

**I know this is a little luck-based, since most things haven't been mentioned in the chapters, but with most of these, some common sense can be a good indication. Also, you can use these to get to know the tributes a little more, outside of what is in the chapters, because it is hard to give these kinds of overviews in them. **

**Please give your answers via PM, end date is Wednesday, the 13th of November. For every right answer, you can earn 10 points. **

_How many tributes are left-handed?_

a) 3

b) 7

c) 10

_Who is the smallest and who the tallest tribute?_

a) Mira + Owen

b) Meat + Owen

c) Mira + Tanzan and Luna

_How many tributes already have experience with handling a weapon?_

a) 10

b) 14

c) 18

**Last thing: I'm planning for roughly 12 chapters in the Capitol and two or three POVs per chapter depending on length and feeling. This should give every tribute some pagetime and me space to develop their relationships, and I also hope it will still move relatively fast. ****This should then result in the bloodbath happening on January 23rd...let's see if I can make that happen :D**

**See you next week!**


	16. Chapter 16 - Train Rides Part 2

_Rats and conquerors must expect no mercy in misfortune._

Charles Caleb Colton

* * *

**Eleanor Prada – D1**

* * *

"Hand me the cookies, Lauren", I tell our Escort, who has them right in front of her, smiling pleasantly as she bathes in their intense, chocolaty smell.

The silver haired woman looks up at me, folding the white napkin in front of her before she carefully lifts the tray, as if it was heavy to her. I put two of these delicious treats on my plate, careful to choose the ones with the biggest chunks of actual chocolate in them, and lick my lips. Warm and melty.

"For you as well, Gnaeus?" Lauren asks, still holding out the cookies in front of me. My fellow tribute looks up, still busy chewing a slice of cheese, which is why I decide to answer for him.

"He could never!" I chuckle quietly and caress his biceps, to which he gives me a raised eyebrow. "I mean, look at his body. If he were to eat one of those it would totally show in an instant. I, on the other hand, am lucky to have an amazingly fast metabolism."

"Speaking from experience, even that won't help you to face all of the food you can get in the Capitol." Tysha joins the conversation in a warning tone and I roll my eyes at my Mentor – do I look like a starving outlier you will fall over the buffet savagely?

"But it's true – you look gorgeous and still get to enjoy cookies. Consider me jealous."

Gnaeus has finished his dessert of cheese and grapes, and now launches in his golden chair, hands on the back of his head, fingers entangled in his dusty brown hair. I give him a small nod of approval. Honestly, I appreciate to have a District partner and ally who it is easy to be with. That isn't a given with a wide pool of idiots to choose from.

"Alright, let's move everybody. Reaping replays start in five minutes!" Lauren announces, jumping up with a clap of her hands. Her finger nails click together and make an ugly plastic sound at which I narrow my eyes.

Yet, Tysha immediatley walks over to her and grabs a hand, obviously marveling at the filigrane art, with numbers painted on them, each representing a year in which Lauren escorted the District 1 tributes. Nine already, the pinky nail of her right hand is still free, only coloured in a nude rose.

"What are you going to do in two years?" Tysha asks while we switch wagons and I turn my head over to listen.

"Oh, I haven't thought about it to be honest...maybe I'll just put two numbers on one nail?"

"You'd have to make them really small then. Or get bigger nails. But I imagine they are annoying even now."

"Have you thought about retirement?" I give my opinion as we switch train wagons.

"What, why?"

"Oh, just because ten years is a lot and it's harder to hide your age then. District 1 stands for young and beautiful tributes, so you might not be able to represent that anymore."

I shake my head at her O-shaped mouth, because that expression actually makes some wrinkles on her forehead show. Contrary to what I expected, Lauren doesn't respond anything, even though I imagined she would have a little more backbone in her. We sit on seperate ends of the giant sofa they somehow fit in this section and for a hot second I wonder how they got that through any of those small doors, but then Grand Emmerson, who is Gnaeus' mentor, passes around shot glasses for everyone.

Our oldest living victor and the one who helped build the Academy in the first place, is not known to be a drunk, but of course there's nothing to say against a toast on our successful reaping day.

"To a great few weeks, and to the future, where we'll be back here toasting to victory with one of you two!" he announces and we raise our glasses.

It's burning vodka he has chosen, but I gulp it down with grace, keeping a straight face as I look at Gnaeus, who shows a little bit more disapproval, but does actually drink what he was offered. When we were in the Academy a few weeks back and were proclaimed the chosen volunteers, he only had friendly declined, saying he wouldn't want that stuff to eat away any of the muscle he has built over all his years of training.

Showing a little bit of inconsistency, isn't he? I make a mental note about that, because there will come a time when every bit of information can be useful to me.

The TV springs to life on its own and the Capitol emblem is shown, along with the Hymn in the background. Immediately I make sure to sit even more upright and put a hand to my heart. Just about a day from now and I'll stand in front of the President of Panem, when the Hymn will be played after the Parade.

Will I be able to impress him then? What about the career tribute from the other Districts? I fixate my eye on the screen, a little anxious to find out about this years opponents.

First up is the District 12 reaping, with it being the poorest it's probably a clever choice to have it at the beginning of the show. At least they can get a little attention, but if someone were to be late on their TV, they wouldn't miss anything important. Their tributes are the ones no one bets on, though they have received a bit more popularity after this strange happenings in the recent Quell. I never believed someone of of that hole could win the Hunger Games, but seems if the lottery is lucky enough, it can just pick out that one person with potential sometimes.

This year their tributes are rather insignificant though, and I only am fully awaken when District 11 is shown. The female tribute is a young girl who gets booed by the crowd, a bunch of people scream things and pump their fists in the air and I find myself almost forgetting to chew at how wild that place looks.

The screaming doesn't stop with the male tribute, a guy rather well build and well dressed, but this time a single old man can be held accountable for the trouble. He screams something about loyalty. If he were so loyal to the Capitol, then why isn't he happy his probably-grandson can go into the Games? One would think he must understand what an opportunity they are. There is another young man, clearly too old to volunteer, but he tries anyway and of course is denied.

"One would think they are no more than animals the way they behave themselves. They don't even seem to understand the rules", I remark, but get no answer, since the video already moves on.

District ten is no better, yet somewhat more worrysome, bringing out two volunteers at once, which seem like a miracle to me.

"What the hell?" Gnaeus shakes his head and looks at Tysha and Grand for advice. "Outlier volunteers are usually trouble, aren't they?"

"Might be, but the girl is too young and the boy clearly went for his brother. We'll find out more soon enough."

* * *

**Connor DuPlessis (15) – D5**

* * *

It's the weirdest experience to see yourself on TV, especially such a big one as the one the Capitol has put into our train, and with such a high resolution at that. My skin doesn't gleam in reality and Kitanas' almost-tears weren't even visible to me back on the stage. But now that they have her face in close-up, it shows the watery lashes, just barely avoiding a drop to form and roll down her freckled cheeks.

And honestly, do I walk like this? I never thought about how my movements would look to others, just normal I guessed, yet maybe the Capitol is going to find it odd how my arms swing loosely by my side, I mean, they are strange people after all.

It's only Kitana and myself in the room right now, with our Escort Zane having gone to sleep and our Mentors still stuck in the dining area. I don't know what I expected out of them, because I'd would've been odd to even think a bout this situation just a few hours earlier, but certainly not that. That we'd be left by ourselves. And I'd appreciate the silence, yet Kitana clearly doesn't.

"Do you think we did a good job up there? We were strong, you even more so than I was. I really hope that teary eyes didn't ruin my chances for sponsors...that said, there must be at least someone, even one person, who would like me and want to help me, right?" my District partner thinks out aloud as she shifts weight in her armchair, fingers interlocked with each other, eyes going back and forth between the TV screen an me. She's been commentating the whole reapings, so I'm already used to her voice. However, this is the first time I'm actually asked a question directly.

"It's alright, but I don't think the reapings matter that much for sponsors. Many others cried or were close to it as well", I offer her my thoughts. There are so many things still coming up for us, the Parade, training sessions, Interviews, which all will be more important than what happened at the reapings for sure. Even though it might be true that some will use those events as their hooks for a good story.

"Hm, you're right. You know what? We can both do great in the Capitol, and if only I can learn some survival stuff, I _can _go back home to my boyfriend. He's out of the reapings now and got a job, so then we can..." She suddenly stops and her face falls. "Oh no, I'm so sorry!"

She looks too young to move in with a boyfriend. She's still older than me, I remind myself, and that isn't what she was apologising about. Could she still be out for my life? That's not a question I must think about long, just the words slipping out of her mouth are enough to tell the truth. Even though Kitana looks more than shocked, at least her subconsciousness have already processed how the Hunger Games work.

I resist the urge to move away from her and instead search for some words, which I just can't find. I could tell her it's fine and she doesn't need to worry about it, but that's a terrible lie, at least as bad as the other option of threatening her, because it might not be clever to make an enemy out of my District partner.

"I really didn't think this through. But I won't apologise again, if you're waiting for that..."

I meet her large green eyes and shake my head. "You don't need to", is the only answer I can find and luckily, she drops the topic. Here we are, just a few hours into the Games and already thinking about how to best murder the other. Well, not in any concrete way, but the concept of Kitana being dead in a week does no more than give me a slight uneasiness in the stomach.

"Looks like both from District four are career tributes this year – just our luck. Most of them actually don't look that bloodthirsty, I've noticed that, but they somehow still are in the end. That blue suit is nice. I like blue..."

It's kind of funny how I can look at these trained killer machines and still not tremble like a leaf, when I probably should. There must be a way to outlive them, after all they are humans as much as any other tribute. If I could see them coming, I could probably run away fast enough. In the best possible outcome, I'd be lucky enough to not meet them in the arena at all. Yet, that still doesn't mean chances are high to survive this thing.

They are equal for everyone, until the arena is revealed and gives us what we need, or it doesn't.

* * *

**Galvan Moss (18) – D11**

* * *

This is a shit of a situation and all the riches the Capitol throws at us can't help that. There are so many things that have been going wrong over the last few days, I need to count them to believe it.

First, grandfather had a heart-attack, which put him in the hospital and out of organising the reapings. Second, he came home, but isn't as fit as he used to be. Third, I was reaped. Out of all those people, with my chances low as can be and actually having never done one wrong thing in my life. Fourth, the Chaos that resulted out of that, which made me fear that grandpa would have another heart-attack. Luckily, he didn't. I can only hope that Paxton takes care of them both. Fifth, that little Ryuji-girl, treating me like a criminal, suspiciously eyeing me from the side, but making a run for it as soon as I enter the room.

She's the reason why I'm alone in my train apartment to watch the reapings, while Nan Hastings has a talk with her. Of course, as a mentor that's her responsibility and damn, that girl might need it. One last talk, where she can let out all her sorrows or so, before she will be dead in a few days. There is no denying that and it would be useless for me to try and warm up to her.

Would I have wished for an easier to handle District partner? Maybe, though I it might be best the way it is now. The stranger the better. With her miserable face, alienated by eyes like slits and a pretty uncommon skin colour, which must be due to some genetic thing, she looks kind of unhealthy, and that miserable expression doesn't help her either. She could be one you want to tell that they should stand still on their platforms after the gong sounds, so their suffering isn't unnecessarily prolonged.

Poor thing, the Games are probably only the top on her very own list of things gone wrong in life.

About the other tributes, there are some that worry me a bit, yet not one who immediately seems unbeatable. And beat them I must...I still want to scold myself for my chest being cramped like iron bands were strangling it and my mind always wanders back home, where Edric probably lies in his bed, grandfather beside him and if they are not fine once I come back home, I swear I will kick Paxton out myself.

But of course, Paxton knows what he is doing. _"Don't let my brother watch"_, I told him as a goodbye, because I know Edric couldn't take it. He was so damn brave and my heart sank for a second when he tried to volunteer. My sweet brother, who doesn't understand all the rules and detail of the Hunger Games, but knows fully well that they might just be the death of me.

And that is why I need to come home. For my own life as well, but that is clear. Who wouldn't want to come back for their own sake alone?

* * *

**And just like that, Train Rides are done, which means our tributes will mix up very soon, meeting one from other Districts and forming alliances. **

**This last chapter and the current one were actually written without much of a plan and I think it might show. I was going for a complete reaping recap of all Districts, yet it just didn't fit well and I didn't find it important enough to try and squeeze things in. **

**Well then, see you next week and I would really love to hear your thoughts about the first few tribute interactions. **


	17. Chapter 17 - Tribute Parade

**Tanzan Oshane – D4**

* * *

The prep room must be one of the plainest places there are in the Capitol, with light grey wall coverings and two framed pictures – one of them shows the Capitol banner, the other one District 4. With the stretcher and a curtain probably leading to a shower, it could almost be like the physical therapy room from the Academy back home, if only it weren't for a wall full of mirrors and shelves full of strange beauty products.

A dramatic piece of violin music has been going on for minutes now and still no sign of my prep team or my stylist. Are they going to be late for their job? Then again, the parade isn't until eight o'clock, which means we have five hours left to hang around here and I can by no means imagine how it would take so long to simply get into an outfit.

I help myself to a cup of coffee, which comes with five different types of sugar to choose from and I have to give them that – they know a little something about food and drinks here. I go for the simple white sugar, and as the first sips of bitter-sweet liquid run down my throat, the door finally opens and three Capitolites walk in.

"Good afternoon, Tanzan!" one of the men yells, but it doesn't sound right, because despite his deep bass he tries to fit in with the high pitched accent.

He tells me he is called Milo, while his collegues are Olivian and Gerrad. They all wear sea green in my support and have decorated their hair with shells. If I had a heart for fashion I could be impressed, yet my smile if more because of amusement. They don't seem to care – I have to give them that.

"This year will be your year, you better believe that."

"Hella - your Stylist that is - has thought of something new, you know, away from the usual blue, but you'll see soon enough."

"I have to say, coffee is a great idea!" Olivian adds, as if it were mandatory for him to say something too.

So he first thing we do is have a nice drink together and get to know each other, which is a little bit upsetting, since I had hoped with our arrival in the Capitol the Games would finally start for real. Talise and I got a little sneak-peak at the excitement here when we got out of the train, but we weren't allowed to talk to anyone and had to leave immediatley.

"So, what are we waiting for? I don't get why we need five hours to prepare me for the parade...isn't it just an outfit I need to get into?" I ask them after having finished my coffee in one gulp.

Milos spills some brown liquid onto his shirt, because he wants to answer too quickly. "Oh no, I'm so sorry!" he wails.

"Never mind – as long as you don't spill it on me", I grin and shrug and prompt one of the other guys to answer my question, while the former hurries out to get rif of the stain.

"Oh, _we _don't need that much time, seeing that you're a civilised human being. It's just much more work with some of the other Districts...I once worked for 10 and I've never seen so much body hair on a mere child...! But we're going to have you take a shower, do your hair and make-up and _then _Hella will help you with the outfit", Gerrad explains as he points to the different stations in the room.

"I already showered this morning."

"Annnd? We still need you to take _this _shower." They look at me as if that's a given, and for a short moment I feel stupid. What's so special about this one, in contrast to the one on the train? It's not like the people watching me in the parade would be able to see a difference...

"Alright, if you think I must..." I still give in and get up, just so as not to start this Games by upsetting my team. Afterall, I will need to cope with them for at least the Interviews and maybe even before the arena, and then of course for the victory tour.

For a moment my thoughts wander towards that, but I slap myself out of it, as I can clearly hear in my head what grandma would say to that. "_Daydreaming is for fools, I told you often enough!"_

So I grab the nearest towel and make my way to the shower, but stop when I realise they are all following me. Milo has come back with a fresh shirt and now my prep team stands there, armed with several bottles of shampoo, sponges, scrubbers and brushes.

"Thanks, but I'm able to shower all by myself", I assure them, nodding theatrically and turn around to get behind the shower curtain, but I'm not deaf, so I hear their steps behind me. I turn around again.

"Of course, honey, but see that's not a usual everyday shower and it is our job to help you. We know exactly what Hella wants you to look like."

"No, thank you. Just tell me what to use and I'll be done in no time", I say pointing to the arsenal of beauty products.

Nobody moves an inch. Three adult men dressed in sea green, determined to go into the shower with me – this is not a situation I was trained for and I can basically feel myself loosing my patience them. They must notice how insulting their behaviour is, right?

"Listen: My private space is important to me, so you better stay out of it. For all I care, tell your boss that you've done your job properly, I won't give you away."

Are they startled? Confused? Stupid? I honestly can't say, but it is clear that neither they nor I have expected to start out this way. So I move towards Olivian and wrest the shampoo bottles from his grip, making sure that I lean forward enough to tower over him. He squeals like a dogs' squeeze toy and it is considerable easier to get the other stuff now as well.

"Now, care to explain how to use all that stuff?" I demand, so that we can finally move forward here.

* * *

**Owen Yearling – D6**

* * *

Twenty minutes to go and everything is ready. The chariots lined up one after another, and the tributes all the same, like the horses decorously standing in place. Most of the escorts and mentors don't seem to care about the unspoken rule of keeping to onself, though, as they move around and greet each other, then form circles of conversation.

Without their teams around them, most tributes seem lost or unsure what to do with themselves. Halexa doesn't even bother to stand – my little District partner has lied down, so much as is possible with her limbs and head plugged through the vehicle tire. Her butt hangs down, but doesn't touch the ground as the tire is too big, but she holds her head up as she looks straight into the yellow lamp light which comes from above. She'll be unable to get out of that position if I don't help her, but since there is still so much time left, I decide that doesn't need to be now.

I'm lucky my tactic doesn't depend at all on flattering outfits. I'm pretty sure my own tire comes from a tractor of some sort and they spend a bunch of time on making the holes in all the right places and the right sizes. At least the metallic silver bodysuit prevents the rough material from rubbing my skin raw.

"Move your ass, or you won't have enough time to get to know them all", bellows a voice and I almost would have flinched, but realise fast enough that it doesn't come from someone in the real world. Oliver.

_"Don't you think three days is plenty enough?" _I think back at my dead aunt, who already had insisted on mentoring me in the train even after Shawn Dalton talked to me for over an hour. She called him a dumb fool. I told her that at least he made it out alive.

"No one has talked to anyone at that point in time, so your choices are wide open. That will look completely different tomorrow by noon."

It's frustrating I can't speak against that reasoning. But where to start? In the front of our line-up, the careers haven't moved an inch, staring at each other, but no one wants to be the first to give in and come over to the others' chariot. I bend sideways a little to get a better look at their costumes and make sure I can trust my eyes, and they haven't strangely cut out again, because it looks like District two is naked. Indeed, all they have on them is some spray paint, which would make them look like marble statues, that is, if they weren't moving so much.

For a brief second I ponder wether or not I fancy allying with them, because the career pack would be a good first target to get rid of. I can't remember anyone who tried to kill them first, though, and it might not fit into the plan I originally laid out for myself. However, if I were to go over there and accidentally push one of them, all naked and unprotected, I might just be able to kill that person off. The various torture devices coming out of District threes' costumes certainly look vile.

I restrain myself from making that fantasy a reality, because that certainly would antagonize the Gamemakers and the last thing I need is their toys going after me in the arena. So the decision is to start from the end, and that seems a lot safer to me.

After all those years I don't need a mirror to control that my face looks confident but friendly and no one stops me as I walk to the end of the line, where the District twelve tributes wait in their coal mine worker outfits. After I passed the second to last chariot their heads turn towards me and we awkwardly stare at each other until I am close enough, which takes a while, seeing that my stride length is reduced by more than half due to the tire.

"Hi, I'm Owen from District 6", I introduce myself and hold out a hand.

"I'm Austin." The guy emerges from behind his District partner and shakes it, and I don't even need to fake my surprise at seeing his face up close. It was scary enough on TV, but with different coloured eyes plus that nasty scar, he looks like an abommination, no other word to say here. "And this is Wisteria", he adds as the girl doesn't answer, but just crosses her arms in front of her chest and tries hard to stop biting her lip.

"So what brings you over here?" Austin takes innitiative and I am happy that he does, because it gives me the advantage of seeming polite in answering a question, instead of coming here just to demand something.

"I'm looking for allies. I thought I'd take the first chance to get to know some people and you two seemed like a good start."

That does seem to surprise him and also sparks the interest of his partner. She needs to look up quite a bit to meet my gaze, and surprisingly holds it for several seconds.

"Why would you want us? We're from twelve and there are several others you could have started talking to."

"No particular reason, I guess. Since I don't know anyone, I'm going to give everyone the same chances." I shrug and see her face light up a bit, however distant she still might be. Equal chances – stupid things stupid people believe in. Yet it's usually a good way to find out if someone believes themselves to be better than the the average, because they probably see an opportunity to show their worth.

This Austin guy is the first to answer, though. He doesn't appear as sceptical. "I'd like a strong ally – and strength comes in numbers." It is like he's accepting the offer I haven't officially made yet.

"Wait. I wouldn't mind allies, but I want to see if we fit together, first", Wisteria interferes.

"My thoughts exactly. So let's train together first thing tomorrow morning?"

"Agreed", she says and once I'm alone, I will sure laugh at the spark of hope that lights up in her hazel eyes.

* * *

**Wisteria Lockwind – D12**

* * *

Hearing the screams from inside the stable was hurting my ears, but now that the chariot drives out into the dawn, they change to be an enchanting choir that fills every fibre of my body. The Capitolites on the stands are too far away to see any of their faces, but they are wearing all the colours I know and also some which I have never seen in my life.

"Wow..."

I lean forward a bit to get a look ahead, where the sand track elongates and in the distance, a tiny marble building becomes slowly visible. That must be the presidential mansion.

"And here comes District twelve, Ladies and Gentlemen!" sounds the voice of Panems Master of Ceremonies.

They have been screaming for the other tributes, _Jade, Tanzan, Miles _and _Marigold_ being the ones I hear the most and I can't hold it against them that they are impressed by the mysterious figures that are the District nine tributes. They are cloaked in an intense black with golden shimmering lines drawing like lifelines, hoods deep in their faces and giant golden Scythes. They are death reapers.

And here we are, Austin and me, dirt smeered all over our faces. They have us wear painstakingly yellow headlights, a ragged white shirt and brown trousers that could come straight out of District twelve and have no resemblence at all to anything that you would expect from the Capitol. I lift my hand to wave to the crowd, but everytime I try to catch someones gaze they look away.

"I hate our stylist. She wants us to die, she knew we would be overlooked with these outfits", I tell Austin, who doesn't seem to care about attention, but stares wide eyed and a bit scared on the big screens, which show the other tributes.

He quickly looks over now and after a gulp there follows a faint smile. "We'll have plenty of chances to make them like us later on."

"Yeah, keep believing that", I whisper under my breath, but loud enough that he can hear. Apparently he has no answer for that and the taste in my mouth turns bitter.

If no one shows us their love here, we will have double the work to do to get any kind of attention in the next few days. After they ripped me from my life I didn't expect much, just a mere effort would have been nice. Five Days...that's how much I have left for sure and after that, I could die at any second. The only thing I wanted was to wear one of those Capitol dresses, in a colour that is not white or grey or brown, made from comfortable materials. But I have to be a mine worker for one more day, a profession not even allowing for girls, and in the minds of the Capitolites, they will remember me for that at least until the interviews.

Only when the Chariot slows down I release my head out of the stiff, chin-held-high position. I have no wish to see how President Snow looks down on us tributes from the balcony of his Mansion. He is the man who ordered my death. Our deaths', as I briefly scan for the other tributes, but immediatley scold myself. I can't afford to think about that and they will all be out for my life soon.

Some of them even volunteered for this...they are not only forced to murder other children, but they _want _to. And Owen is one of them, towering above everybody else. Was it a good choice to even talk to him in the first place? Then again, he must have some skill if he believes he can win this. This is a good thing. I am lucky he has asked me. Or am I?

I don't even notice that the tribute adress is over until the chariots start moving again, and my gaze is still fixiated on my potential ally. I'm sure my heart must have pumped all the blood out of my body by now and replaced it with a mix of adrenaline and acid, and that mixture is poisoning my thoughts as well.

I'm in a room with twenty-three other children who want to kill me. Who are here for no other reason than to kill me. I have some skills, but so do they and now all of them outshone me being beautiful as ruby-red devils, elegant as statues, vile as mad scientists, unpredictable and dangerous as aligators with shimmering green scales. Even District five with their windmill-hats are so much more impressive than a dirty girl from twelve.

As soon as we stop I jump down from the chariot, rush past Haymitch and our Escort Holly, towards the only door available, which must lead into the training center and our apartments. Giant cowbells ring as the District ten tributes turn their heads, but I don't stop. The heavy door is guarded by peacekeepers and for a moment my heart sinks and I fear they won't let me through.

But they do and the temperature change is so strange, as well as coming from a horse stable into a small elevator room. I have heard of those, technique that makes stairs useless, because one can go way faster, and I guess one is supposed to press a button to make that happen. I slam my hand on all of them and with a swish, a door opens.

Inside the thing is tiny and made out of nothing but metal. Metal door, metal walls, metal buttons. They have numbers for sixteen different floors, but one catches my eye. My flat breath becomes visible as I get close to the key panel and press '_lock'_.

* * *

**Alright Ladies and Gentlemen, so much for the tribute parade. **

**Tanzan having trouble with his prep team, Owen being the first to set a plan in motion and Wisteria having an emotional breakdown. What do think of that? Any costumes you liked?  
**

**Also, it's time to reveal the answers to our Quiz from two weeks ago. The right answers are B, A, B. Seven left-handed tributes, Mira and Owen are the smallest and tallest respectively, and there are fourteen who have experience with a weapon. **

**And last I want to say that I'm super excited about how the views for this story have gone up in the recent weeks! I didn't expect that, so thanks everyone for reading :)**

**So next chapter is the first day of training - See you then. **


	18. Chapter 18 - Training Day 1, Part 1

_ Rats and roaches live by competition under the laws of supply and demand. It is the privilege of human beings to live under the laws of justice and mercy. _

_ \- Wendell Berry_

* * *

**Talise Belle (16) – District 4**

* * *

I stretch my arms over my head and on the way down, tighten my hair tie – ready for training. Tanzan takes two steps at a time as we walk all the was down to the basement level of the Training Center. Even though he promised me to make sure I get into the career pack, my heart still flutters a bit because of the upcoming first meeting.

We didn't get the chance to talk with the others yesterday, as it was late and instructions were clear that we should go immediately to our apartments, so we could be rested for today. I think back to the short strategy session we got from our mentor Maggs while trying to remove the last bits of green and black make-up from our faces. Trust each other. Get used to the weaponry, but don't overtrain. Watch out for the other tributes.

This is the stuff she tells us when we are coached together, but she already told me she wanted to talk with me alone sometime. There is no denying that everybody here is an opponent.

Big double doors prevent us from going directly into the training hall as we arrive ten minutes early, just like most other tributes. Some District partners are whispering to each other, but overall it is painfully silent.

Tanzan is quicker to spot our soon-to-be allies, the pair from District one and they see us too. The guy, his name is Gnaeus I recall, comes over with a bright smile and offers his hand, and there are greetings going all around.

I clear my throat, because it still feels a little dry from several cups of hot chocolate at breakfast, and only then introduce myself to them as well.

"So where is District two?", Gnaeus asks, only to earn shrugs from all of us. "We should wait for them before we talk about anything."

That's what we do and it takes several minutes for them to arrive, yet Jade comes over alone, while her District partner chooses a corner furthest away from everyone else. He leans against the wall with his face calm and only briefly glances over to us, then focusing on the other tributes.

"What about him?" I want to know, because he doesn't look untrained and I remember he wanted to be in this spot.

Jades face turn sour. "I made sure he's not going to bother us. He's dangerous and he can't be trusted."

I feel my face fall a bit. So great – this not only make me the smallest, but also the youngest of us. But I need to remember that I've gotten myself into this. Being here was entirely my own choice, so I will have to deal with it entirely on my own as well. And at least it seems like the question wether I'm in or not doesn't even need to be asked. I am part of the careers and that should keep me safe for at least a while.

"Well, maybe it would've been clever to keep him close then. But anyway, we just introduced ourselves, so you didn't miss much." Gnaeus doesn't look thrilled with the news, yet he is better at putting on a smile than, say, Tanzan.

"Jade Dove – I'm the major's daughter."

"Oh...and what kind of qualification is that?"

She seems startled at that and for a while doesn't answer. "It just means I'm an important person in my District", she then decides to say.

"Good thing we are not in your District, then", Eleanor shoots back and it doesn't take her a second to think of that commentary.

It's exactly like I'm back in the Academy again and I'm not sure why I thought this would be different, but this head on confrontation makes me feel uncomfortable watching. Luckily, before anyone can say anymore, Gnaeus gets between them and puts his arms around their shoulders, Eleanor to his right, Jade to his left.

"You girls are _so _charming. Let's go get in there and just show'em what we've got."

It's exactly at this moment that the doors click to signal they are open now and Eleanor takes that as an invitation to push away a guy with a big five on the back of his shirt, giving Jade enough time to be the first to grab the door handle.

"Thanks for getting the dirt out of my way", she says sounding as provocative as can be as she enters into the training hall.

It's huge. At least twice the size of what District four has to offer, having to account for complex survival stations, and definetly more modern as well. No lockers with broken padlocks, no forgotten glasses, stinking socks or towels lying around anywhere. This is so professional and sterile, my heart feels crushed inside my chest.

We are going to be here for a mere second. No need to personalise anything. But at least I got a realistic chance to be the one to get out alive.

Peacekeepers are lined up against the walls everywhere and somehow that makes me feel a bit better. Who knows what some of the tributes are capable of? As we all arrange ourselves to stand in a circle in the middle, I look into their faces one by one. It's easy to imagine most of them being killers. Most of them...in some Districts, they let their youngest ones go in, though. I grind my teeth, at least I can say I'm better than that.

"Good morning, tributes! My name is Marcus and I'm the head coach", starts the silver-skinned man , whose Shirt says '_HEAD COACH'_ on it. "If you have any general questions, you can come to me. You will have two full days of training, in which you can learn at the stations whatever you desire. Before we start, here is my special advice for this year: Keep your eyes open, keep your ears open, and keep moving!" He claps his hands as a signal to spread out and slowly, the first few start to walk away.

What a strange piece of advice. Paying attention seems like something obvious, but what does she mean by keep moving? That we should not dwell too long on a single station? Or is that one about the arena?

"So how are we going to start?" It is Tanzan who asks this, looking around at where the other tributes are heading, while we still stand in the middle of the training hall.

"We sit and talk, I'd say. Or is anyone stressed they're not good enough yet?" With a laugh Gnaeus plummets down to the floor right where he is, sitting cross-legged, and waits for us to join him.

Truth is, I am a bit stressed. The Capitol weapons are a supposed to be different from those in our Academy, but that is not my main concern. I know that I need to make a plan on how to handle my allies, once the time comes. The sooner I know what they are capable of, the earlier I can start thinking of something and focus on the skills necessary to defeat them.

For a moment I stop myself, wondering how I'm capable of such treacherous thinking in pre-Games already, but the again, it feels kind of natural. At some point we will have to go against each other and I can only hope that at least Tanzan will stay on my side till the bitter end.

"So, I'll start. I'm Gnaeus, 17 years old and my best weapon is the spear. I won't include a fun fact, but you're welcome to do so", he beams and I have to laugh at that, because he sounds so completely serious with that childish introduction. Fun that it seems to be done like that despite our Districts being so different. Tanzan besides me chuckles.

"Ok, I'll go next. I'm Tanzan, 18 years old and my best weapon is the mace, but I generally like to use my fists as well. I like fun facts, so I'm going to give you one and it's that my favourite animal is the woodpecker – they're pretty rare, but I hope the arena will have some."

"Please no woodpecker mutations", I throw in the first thought that occurs to me.

"Yeah, that'd be nasty."

"I like birds as well...", Jade randomly says, a bit too late and a bit too much sounding like it was a question. "I'm Jade, I'm 18 years old and I'm good with just anything that is a melee weapon."

While she's still talking I ready myself to be next, since I guess it wouldn't be great to be last all the time. And Eleanor has a face like she's still considering what comments make next.

"I'm Talise and 16 years old, I fight with throwing daggers...and a fun fact is that I can sing pretty well.", I tell them, inwardly releasing a deep breath. That sounded well.

"I'm Eleanor, 18 years old and my best weapons are the bow and arrow, as well as knives in close combat. I think the fun fact is that Gnaeus and I have trained together for quite a while now." She winks at her District partner and he nods back, seeming eager to get to his feet again.

"Yeah, she's right. That's also why I think it's best to mix up when we go around. Do you want to come shred some dummies with me, Talise?"

He offers me his hand and I am surprised as I take it so he can help me up, but than again that probably means I'm fully accepted into the alliance. No questions – and it will be great to prove myself. I don't even take a look at what the others decide to do, and instead feel the tingling anticipation of throwing daggers at something.

* * *

**Wolf Axehandler (17) – District 7**

* * *

Despite the training hall being of greater dimension than I had imagined it before getting here, twenty-four tributes still look like a large crowd as they make noise, run around and explore. Some seem to have no clue where to go, while others head straight away for the station of their desire. As for me, I know my greatest need will be shelter building and therefore, this is what I should do first.

The station is empty, so relief washes over me as I'm not particularly fond of sharing it with anybody else. I will need allies, I know that and it might be easiest to find some when training on a something together, but it's the beginning of the first day and who should I even choose to talk to? I don't know anybody, except for my District partner Luna and I'm pretty sure she is not an option for me.

I spot her in the black and green T-Shirt, looking even paler than a ghost, at the fist-fighting station as she gets some instructions from a trainer. This morning she sat in her room and cried, and I noticed her mentor Abby Oakley going in there to get her for breakfast. She looked better afterwards, with some food in her stomach and a hint of fire in her eyes as well. Yet I have to admit that I don't understand anything at all, and her story must be difficult, too difficult to put together on my own. She refuses to let any of the Avoxes help her and the one who tried got a porcelain plate smashed over her head.

So I turn away again, resolutely walking towards the shelter building station, which is gigantic. It looks like a patchwork-landscape with a small forest directly besides a desert, besides a beach, besides a stone-field, besides city ruins. And so on.

"Good morning, Wolf. My name is Ginger, how can I help you?" a middle-aged woman with light blue curls introduces herself and I frown a bit. Of course she knows my name, but her using it so carelessly is not okay. As if she had some kind of power over me.

I stay silent for a bit. "I want to learn how to make shelter", I answer eventually, but what did she expect me to say? If I go to the shelter station, surprise, this is probably what I'm here for. But Ginger smiles happily, as if this was exactly what she wanted to hear, and extends a hand towards a neutral space of grey gym floor, where tons of folders lie around. We walk over and she kneels down to pick one up.

"I'm happy that you came here, that was a wise decision. First of all, which shelter options you have depends heavily on the landscape and of course, you don't know at all what this years' arena will look like."

She flips through the pages with pictures and information texts, pointing to the small example territories build up behind us.

"As you see, some of those are wildly different, which is why I want to focus on giving you methods that could work in several of those just fine. Materials such as branches and stones are the most common, so you are likely to have those available. Coincidentally, they are perfect to make shelter!"

It's actually interesting to see the different pictures of shelters which were built just out of those, ranging from simple walls to shield you from wind to hole buildings that wouldn't let a drop of rain trough them. I decide to try something simple first, a inclined protection wall to hold off wind and I could also avoid getting soaked with rain. It's not mentioned here, but my first thought about that was that it would be a great barricade in a fight.

While I'm piling up stones and seal the small holes with leaves, I can't resist the urge to look around every now and then. There is, in the back of my mind, always the thought that if I want allies I should know whom to talk to and whom to avoid, an in general what everyone is capable of. The girl from three and the boy from five stand together and look at edible plants, so they already seem to have an alliance. Several others still walk around alone, like the boy from eleven, who at least seems physically fit. And mustn't he know something about foods?

The main problem still is that there is no recipe on how to approach another tribute. Back home and even in the train, I thought it would just be about finding someone with complimentary skills to mine and we would strike a deal, but the reality looks a lot different. Trust is an issue. Getting to know each other. Both our mentors talked about how many tributes would try and manipulate each other. Talking is the key here, one I know I don't know how to use.

I wish I was in my room seven floors up, where a tempting bookshelf reminds me of home and would allow me to escape into a world where characters make easy conversation. If this was just a book and I was the hero, I'd have no problem to approach anyone I'd like and make them my friend. Maybe they would betray me sometime, but I'd see it coming and survive.

Sadly, this is not how it works. This is reality.

* * *

**Meat Lucher (16) – District 10**

* * *

It's sad there isn't much good alliance material in this crop of tributes. Five under fifteen, which immediately disqualifies them, because while they are cute, they also shouldn't even be here and probably lack the skill to do very much on their own. This is not the time for me to be the charitable guy in protecting them.

There are some others who look fit and I've seen the girl from twelve wield a sword, as well as the guy from five, but they look so downtrodden at the same time that I can't imagine to get along with them. Street rats aren't to be trusted and you can't have intelligent conversation with them either. So, the careers it is.

I smirk because it's so funny how we are basically the same – skilled with weapons, fit and healthy, good looking, rich, volunteered to be here. The two guys would probably like me as well, seeing as they are outnumbered by girls right now. And then there would be a man for each of the girls. Fair, perfect, everyone is happy.

I look around to make them out in the training hall and find the pretty one from District one, her dark hair put together in a wavy ponytail and the skin-tight Shirt hugging her curves. It does look a bit strange to see a girl that muscled, but that's much better than a living skeleton anyway. She talks to a trainer, a collection of so many different knives in front of her that I can't even count them. All around a training dummies spread out, as well as some fighting areas with staff waiting.

Deciding to go for the dummies I walk past her, nod to another trainer and choose a place where I'm visible still. "I'm just going to throw some punches", I tell the man who approaches me, probably to help, but it's not like I haven't won some fist fights in my life. He stays to watch, but whatever. It is his job afterall.

The dummy material looks like solid punching ground and there are targets painted onto it for those who don't know where critical spots are. I ball my hands into fists and do some warm-up moves, hitting in the guts, on the nose, in the eyes. Once I feel good with that I go for harder impact, the kidneys and then the head again.

After a few minutes the head of that dummy dangles to the side satisfactionary, it only is sad that there isn't fake blood to complete that beaten-up look. I take a step back and peer over to where the career girl was, but now she is occupied with slicing a dummy of her own a few metres away. How can one be so deaf and not have heard the noise my fists made when hitting?

I walk over to her anyway and watch a few seconds as her breasts jump up and down and from side to side from the wild moves she makes.

"Sharp weapons for a sharp girl. I like that", I make myself noticeable. She stops for a plit second, glancing through flaxen brown eyes before she goes back to slashing. I roll my eyes – af if playing hard to get would have any power in the real world. "But you'll need someone to have your back – I heard multitasking is a myth."

She stops finally arms with knives hanging loosely at her sides and lips pressed together before she speaks. "Are you honestly trying to talk to me? Urgh. You grew up with pigs, right?"

"I grew up slaughtering pigs and that makes a ton of money. I'm probably the only guy in District ten who slept in a feather bed." I grin, because it's not like I'm not quick-witted. It's a bit insulting that she would think of me like that, then again, who am I to blame her for not remembering everyone from the reaping. And it did give me a good hook to get to the right topic.

"You must be very lonely then. I'll end your misery soon enough, don't worry."

But that is too much. She can't just turn away in such a respectless manner. Who does she think she is?

"Pah! You couldn't even do that. First I'll take those knives of yours and shove them up your bu...Aah!"

I had gripped one of her wrists and wanted to take the knife out of her hand, but she had another one and darted forward to slash it across my chest. Shit. How did that even happen? It feel like my body is burning and the red is pouring down my shirt, soaking it and covering my skin. I stop the steps backwards I had taken and lunge forward instead, only for something to almost rip out my arms from behind.

"No fighting. Step back now!" commands the deep, muffled voice of a peacekeeper, those fools. Isn't it I who was attacked and isn't it my right to get revenge now? Another one has the girl as well, but she has already dropped her knives and now raises her nose into the ceiling, murderously staring down at me.

I don't give her the satisfaction of winning and should she think she has, she couldn't be more wrong. We'll see who the others rather want with them – a stupid priss or a confident fighter.

* * *

**I'm back and kind of punctual. Well, a week late and I'm super sorry for that because I didn't anticipate real life being so spontaneous. To give a little context, I'm moving in with my boyfriend soon and last week I found out that the move has to happen earlier than we all expected – so we needed to re-plan everything, which took all of my mental capacity.**

**As for the chapter itself, I'm overall okay with how it turned out now, and it's actually one of the longest I've written for this story so far, but frustrated it is a week behind schedule. I will try to catch up at some point with a double chapter, but am not sure when exactly that will be. Just as soon as I have a super creative week I guess. **

**So I hope you had fun with this one and I'll see you next week, with the second part of Training Day 1, and also a new bet for sponsor points. **


	19. Chapter 19 - Training Day 1, Part 2

**Marigold Rye (14) – District 9**

* * *

The breakfast today was the first food I could hold onto since the reaping and I should be thankful for that, however just to approach a trainer at the knife station has my stomach turn again. I had some raspberries and a croissant at lunch, both very tasty and the queasiness was slowly going away until I made this decision. But I need to be able to defend myself, that is what Cornelia said.

"Excuse me please, I'm here to..."

"Learn how to use a knife? C'mon, I'll introduce you to the basics", the Capitol woman says in a friendly tone, gesturing to follow her to where several of the weapons are laid out, waiting to be used.

There were many occasions in which I used a knife in my life. For cutting vegetables, for opening a letter, for cutting my name into a tree in our backyard. At the time it was all good fun because at six years old the only thing I could think of was that it was the first tree I managed to climb up fully. Never ever did it cross my mind that it could become a symbol of remembrance of me as a person. That I could be dead and my name in a tree would be something to leave behind, for my parents, for my cousin Falla.

With a solid handle, a sharp blade and a tip at the end, these knives look alike any other you could find in District 9, yet their character seems to be more menacing, dangerous even. Which is stupid, because an object doesn't have any character traits – it just depends on what the human does with it. I only want to defend myself. Use it as a tool and not to kill.

The trainer talks about different blade types and for a solid ten minutes, hands me one after the other, asking how it feels in my hand. _Strange_, is the only thing that comes to mind, especially with the thought of what this is all for. She seems certain eventually I'll find a knife that will feel "right" to me, but we are almost through all the available options.

"Can I interrupt? Maybe she'd rather have this thing? Afterall, it is a kind of knife." A boy about my age stands there and without the shirt, I wouldn't have been able to place him in District 8. Something with a P maybe, but the name just doesn't want to come to me. Instead I can only take several bites of air as he holds out a large blade, not a knife but not a sword either.

"What is that?"

"It's called a machete. But I only know that because I've asked a trainer", he explains, tucking a long strand of dark brown hair behind his ear and he slouches as well, seeming unable to hold a good posture. I shake my head at him.

"Just saying that if you don't try it, you won't find out. And even if you don't like it, at least with that you could pretend to be a sweet serial killer. The Capitolites would totally buy it", he goes on, offering me the weapon. I back away.

"I'm no good at pretending and acting", I say instead and wonder what kind of situation I've gotten myself into here. I usually don't talk to strangers...then again, he's also just a tribute, so that doesn't qualify as a stranger, right? Still, I decide to give him a friendly nod and return to my own coaching session again, but he grabs my shoulder and holds me back.

"Oh, wait! I didn't think of that great icebreaker for nothing." It's friendly, not forced or anything and when I turn around the boy pouts ostentatiously, like he is heartbroken that I turned him away so quickly. It works. With a slightly guilty feeling in my chest I mumble a: "Sorry", and give him my attention, because he is right. He at least deserves that if he thought about a way to talk to me that hard. Even though it didn't really work like he intended.

"Why do you want to talk to me?" I ask.

Immediately his face turns cheerful again and she shoots: "So my District partner, Blairoxx, is no one to trust. She's from the upper class and you know, definitely playing some kind of Game already, like those people do. The pair from seven is scary, so District 9 is the closest to home, if that makes sense – I want to talk about an alliance, if you're interested. I'm Poplin by the way, but you can call me Lin."

Alliance? Somehow my mind gets the main topic this is about, yet something bugs me about his words, the way he talked about his District partner, that makes me feel slapped in the face.

"I come from a wealthy family as well, Lin. We're not evil just because we have money", I tell him and at the same time wonder how I found the bravery to actually speak those words. They don't miss their goal – he raises both eyebrows, then furrows them together as hard as he can. He does take some time to consider, but luckily not enough for the silence to get uncomfortable.

"Oh...grm. Okay, I'm not going to be the prejudiced one here. Prove me wrong."

"Why is there always something to prove? But if you don't mind, we can talk and see if we can trust each other." The Hunger Games must have gotten to my head, yet I feel completely fine with voicing my sadness about his opinion. He's not allowed judge me without knowing anything. Still, he looks friendly enough and I do need company in the arena. I can't imagine being alone on a place like this.

* * *

**Kitana Olivier (17) - District 6**

* * *

He is either a good pretender or a total naive fool. _In both cases it will serve you well to be in his alliance. _There are three hours of training left and District 6's Owen has already talked to half of the tributes. Most didn't seem interested to be in a big group, but I definitely am, because in the first days of the Games there is nothing better than to have some shields to protect you against the careers.

Luckily, sweet and innocent Kitana would exactly be that person, the one to seek out a bigger group to hide in.

I wait until they stand all together, Owen and the girl from twelve, watching her District partner as he throws a knife into a dummies neck. It hits just a tiny bit off center and he grumbles in frustration, but then shrugs to take another try.

"Sorry, can I interrupt?" I ask as I approach them, being met with suspicious eyes.

"If you have something important to say", the girl eventually answers with hands in her hips, getting up to match me in height. Inwardly I grin to myself, since this is exactly what I was looking for. Yet on the outside I hope to look just as naive and friendly as ever.

"Always. As in, I always have something to say, but this time it can actually count as important. So I saw you, Owen, go around talking to everyone, so I assume you are on the lookout for another member to your alliance. I could be that person."

He is clearly impressed that I know his name, _one point for Kitana. _He quickly goes to get the other guy, Austin, with an A like my Archie, yet of course the two don't compare at all. I still smile as he joins us, the moment when the girl chooses to ask her question.

"Why us? There are several other options."

"Oh, that is easy. First, you are a larger group already and I believe strength comes in numbers. Second, I watched you all train, you with the sword skills, your partner here did impressive with the plants and the knives as well, and then Owen of course is just huge, and seemed so friendly."

It is not even a lie, yet my patience isn't made to wait for answers. _They will say yes, don't worry. _But what if they say no? I would've made a complete fool out of myself.

"You're right, we are looking for one or two more members to our alliance and if you can bring something useful, we'd love to say yes", Owen finally turns to me with an expecting expression. The 'what?' almost escapes my mouth, but I manage to turn it into a thinking gesture quick enough, taking a finger to my lips.

There is not really anything I can offer except my quite impressive kill record, but that won't do at all. Anger rises in my chest as my thoughts run on high speed, why didn't I think this through first, trying to find something, just anything that would be reasonable of use. _Think a little bit more selfishly. You know exactly what you want them to make you do. _

It is hard not to scoff back to be a little more precise. I need an answer fast, because if I think for too long, they might just reject me. _Fast is the key here. _Oh, that's just perfect.

"I guess I can run fast...and..." I pause, hoping that will cause a reaction, and it does. _Two points for Kitana. Easy as sweet cake. _

"So you could get something out of the cornucopia? Sorry to be so straight-forward, but the more stuff we have the better of course, " Owen apologises, how ironic. The victory trumpets already sound in my head.

"Wait, you can't just ask that of her", interferes Austin, but I choose to ignore his voice of reason.

"Um...if you'd let me into the alliance, then sure. I mean, if I'm just in and out again quickly, I shouldn't get into much trouble", I tell them.

Oh yes, there will be trouble. It is no secret that the cornucopia is the deadliest part of the Games, yet the biggest targets will be those who are dangerous from the beginning. No one will blame me, no one will sniff me out if I accidentally get into a fight in which I will have to defend myself. I'll have an alliance who will be in my depth, I'll have the supplies that I want and I'll have a kill to my name as early as possible. Perfect.

* * *

**Haru Ryuji (12) – District 11**

* * *

The training hall is like a mine field, somehow worse than those closed areas in District 11, where you aren't allowed to go, because you can't see where the bombs will go off. Here, I have to stay, move through the other tributes and I can see them, watch them as they go about learning how to kill me.

How can they even talk to each other? No one can be trusted, everyone is an enemy here. I do want allies, I just don't know who. The odd one out again, I'm the youngest among all of them, not a chance they would see my physique as an asset. In their minds I'm probably the easiest target. Which I will refuse to be.

It's bittersweet honestly, how my first impression when I saw us all together was, that for the first time in my life I might just be one of the group. The white skin-tone seems to be pretty common in other Districts and while there are some tributes who are of dark complexion, they are the minority here. I might not have to hide here, I thought, especially since the Capitol greeted me with cheers as well, when my District only booed. However, both parties want me dead.

Why wasn't I born into a District where me and my family could fit in? Why are my stupid hands hurting from smashing the two flintstones against each other?

I've been on that for at least ten minutes now and there hasn't been as much as even a spark out of them. Matches are fine, even wood sticks went well, but that stupid trainer convinced me to try these out, said fire could be an important thing if I didn't want to freeze to death. Well, I sure don't want that, yet the careers aren't any better an option.

Frustrated, I let the stones fall down and stretch my fingers, examining the still red areas on my knuckles where I hit the punching back this morning.

"I'd say you have to use more force, but that's only a good guess", comes a deep voice from above and as I jump to my feet the career guy is on his way to squat down, taking a closer look at the still cold fireplace.

The black and blue shirt is tight over his chest, where an equally blue four print shows unmistakenly his status. I watch in horror as he examines the stones, obviously thinking about something, and decide this is my cue to leave. I was going to do that anyway.

"You can try if you want to", I decide to tell him as I turn tail, lips pressed together and I don't look back.

"Well that wasn't my...oh well", I hear him say, angry tears shooting into my eyes. No, I won't let that bother me. He can be scary all he wants. He can try and stop me from learning anything all he wants. There are plenty of useful stations and in the end, I still have one trump card to play.

I walk to the closest station straight forward and find that is is for climbing, with several trees and rock walls, and mats to cushion the falls. Something I can't do yet. Something to get better at right now. I know that the tributes from District 11 are usually good at that sort of skill, further prove that I don't belong there. Well, I might never go back. There is no one around so I take a try at a tree on my own.

It takes a while, but after some time I get up and up, and the fall to the mat is not scary at all, but fun. Another person joins me at that station in between, yet I force myself to ignore him. Don't even look. Don't even look.

"What is that smell? Herbs? It's very pleasant." I stop dead in my movement. Why do they choose to talk to me? Do I have a target on my back? I swallow and turn, the rather tall, dark skinned guy from District 9 leaning against a tree with a soft smile on his face.

"Leave me alone" I tell him emphatically, yet the words come out quieter than I had hoped. I stare at him, yet I need to stare up to even meet his gaze, which shows surprise at my comment, but no indication that he is actually going to go away.

"I make you a compliment and you are this rude – that won't win you allies." It's the way he says it, like he really doesn't understand, but of course my words were perfectly clear. Him being from another District doesn't change a thing. They are all the same everywhere...

"Who even said that I want them? I can take care of myself..." This time I'm louder and he shifts, my clue to look for a way to run, get out of this situation, and it's frustrating that I will have to do that for the second time today.

"But you would do better with some help. You looked miserable the whole day, I saw it so you don't need to lie to me. I can help you with your problem if you wanted to talk to me." What is this genuine smile doing on his face? It's like a ticking time bomb, a trick to get me to trust him, but I'm not that stupid.

"People like you are my problem!" I shout, at the same time making out a space to escape through, but before I can do that it his him who winces, it is him who turns tail and runs.

* * *

**Austin Terrine (17) - District 12**

* * *

"You there, stop", a female voice commands behind me as I'm about to get into the elevator. I put my feet into the door so it won't close, unsure if I should feel surprised or shocked.

"Umm, you are from District two, right?" I make sure that I remember her correctly, but it's hard not to recognise the ruby red curls, even though no they hang down with sweat dripping from the tips.

"Oh look, at least they taught you numbers", the career mocks, her eyes scanning me up and down as she steps into the elevator with me, careful to keep as much distance as possible. "Yes, I am and I need to prove a point, so we're going to have a hopefully short conversation on the roof right now."

Her words sound stiff, a bit like she thought about them too much, but I let that slip because the fact alone that she'd want to talk to me is bewildering. Nothing has happened in training that could have caused her interest, or at least I believe so, since I've spend some time alone, some time with Wisteria and Owen.

"So what do you want to have a conversation about?" I carefully ask once a sound announces that we have arrived.

"You, and District twelve I guess. Somehow Amran thinks you outliers could make good allies and he'd be better of with one of you than with the careers."

It is gray and dull here, though the city lights make it easy enough to see each other and I walk to the edge. So that is what the Capitol looks like from above. Even from here I feel like it goes on for forever, to all sides and not a spot of nature to be found. It's appalling to think how we finance this with our work and still here we are, being punished for stupid crimes of people we have nothing to do with.

"So?" I had blanked out of a second, but recollect right away.

"Why not? I don't know about the other Districts, but in twelve a lot of people have good survival skills, which you are known to lack." It's more of an improvised answer, yet it feels right and at the same time strange to tell her that. For sure she has learned about the Districts' strength, hasn't she?

"I can live off of Sponsor gifts and the cornucopia", comes a counter right away. So maybe that wasn't what she meant. A slight uneasiness grows in my stomach as I look at the girl who volunteered to kill children, like I am one, and for some reason she wants something, she feels like she can talk to me like that.

"That's true, I guess. Whatever you aim to achieve here, I'm not giving up hope. I know the Capitol probably wants one of you to win, because you are the ones who will praise it even after the Games are over, because they treat you well at home, while they forget about us back in twelve", I tell her boldly.

She snorts.

"Well there's nothing memorable about a bunch of uncivilised, dirty people, right?"

"But that's exactly what I meant. You don't know anything...about how hard we work and how we stick together, but there just isn't a way out. Do you think people want to live on the streets and starve?"

She seems to consider it. I'm still bugged by the fact that she is here, when she obviously has such a clear opinion. Or maybe she hasn't and I'm the one who misses something?

"Um..who knows? But that wouldn't be reasonable, even for you." She bites a piece off of her finger nail, then shrugs. "So, that still doesn't make you a good choice for an ally I guess...means I was right about it."

The career turns, suddenly making me feel sick. So she wanted to know what I can do? And now she probably thinks I'm an easy kill...I swallow the big knot in my throat to shout after her.

"Again, I don't know about the others, but you can't count me out just yet! I know plants...I can throw a knife..."

"Wait, you what?" She stops abruptly.

"I can throw a knife. I taught it to myself, because me and my family needed food. It's how I got the scar, because they caught me in the woods", I explain to her, somehow relieved that she still wants to listen. Damn, I don't even know her name.

"You are telling me that you managed to teach yourself knife-throwing, when no trainer at the Academy was able to do that for me? Good joke." There is anger in her voice, and of course disbelief, as she crosses her arms and doesn't come back to a normal conversation distance. We basically have to shout at each other.

"No, really. I did it today in training."

"Well, prove it. I'll make a deal with you: Should you really be able to throw a knife, you're going to teach me."

Now it's my time to laugh and I don't even know I can be brave enough to to that. Laugh at someone who would probably be able to kill me in a heartbeat, no matter how good or bad she is at throwing knives.

"I don't think you can learn in a day if you haven't managed it before...but I can still show you. You'd have to teach me something as well, though."

The words are out before I am able to think them through enough, yet it's an alluring prospect, interesting. I would get the chance to know a career, maybe find out something and isn't the fact that this girl is even talking to me not prove enough that she must have some kind of heart inside her? Some kind of common sense?

"Have to? What obligation do I have towards you?" She seems determined to make it hard for me, just trying to see a good piece in her.

"Well, if I give you something, morals demand you give something back. That's what civilised people would do at least", I explain and hope that she will understand that.

"You and I have a very different idea of civilised...but okay, since I'm still not convinced you can even do what you say anyway. Good night."

"Yeah, good night", I say, remaining in my spot for a while. Did I really just strike a deal with a career?

* * *

**Huh, what's this? Four POVs for today's chapter, which is not how I had originally planned this, but I felt all these scenes needed to happen on day one and they were all important for each of the characters involved. It also worked quite well with legth I guess and I don't know if it's just coincidence or a result of doing four instead of three, but overall this chapter isn't much longer than the others. Or maybe it's because I wrote this in a hurry today – hope that doesn't show :D**

**I'll still need to find a quote for this one...once I do, I'll edit it. **

**So yeah, we have a ton of relationships forming here and the pace is picking up a bit, but another thing is that we get to see some abilities of our tributes. This is also where our next Sponsor Points bet comes into play. **

**(I promise I'll make a list of who has how many points on my profile soon).**

What will be the highest score achieved?

What will be the lowest score achieved?

Who will get the highest score?

Who will get the lowest score?

**You can get 10 points for a right score guess and 20 points for a right name guess. Please get your answers to me via PM, the end date will be Wednesday, the 25th of December. This should give you time to see a bit of the other tributes' training before you place your bets, should you want to wait.**

**Last, a review would mean the world to me, just hearing what you think of recent developments and the alliances which are forming. **

**Until next week!**


	20. Chapter 20 - Training Day 2, Part 1

_Mercy – from Old French "merci", meaning "pity" _

* * *

**Nike Queerin (17) - District 3**

* * *

They have taken my beloved headphones from me, for 'inspection', and our Escort Yules told me that I'd get them back before the Games start, if nothing is wrong with them. They have taken Leela's earring as well, as if we both were some criminals trying to cheat. I don't understand how someone can be that untrusting, but I guess if they take all the personal things from the tributes, it's fair at least.

Now the silence in front of the training hall is scary, as it's only nine thirty and no other tribute is here. I realise that ten minutes later would have been enough, probably, but if they open the doors a bit early and I can somehow have a minute more of training, that will be worth the wait.

I just wish I was allowed to call home again, where my parents worry for me, and I could tell them that I am fine, I'm doing well here and learned a bit of weaponry skills yesterday. The Machete is kind of heavy and that is why my wrists and arms feel sore today, but Blizz said it's what builds muscle and strenght, of which I apparently have none.

But there are things I'm good at as well, for example swimming. The trainer was impressed and had me swim for half and hour straight, and also walk against the stream in a hip-deep river. She said that most other tributes can't swim, and going into the water might be a good tactic, especially in an open field with no hiding places. I repeated her words in my head yesterday before bed, just to make sure I remember them.

A swishing sound makes me look up as the elevator doors open. A girl walks out, her head hanging down and dark strands of hair hanging into her face. She's from District 7, her name is Luna, but otherwise I don't know much about her. Blizz said it would be clever to have as much information as possible on the other tributes, so I learned their names, that's the least I could do.

"Good morning!" I greet her and she looks up like she hasn't expected anyone to be here, changing her tired expression to one that doesn't seem all that friendly.

"As if you mean it", she grumbles looking away.

"I do. With all the pressure of training and maybe death, the least I can do is wish you a good morning", I explain.

"Whatever."

The way she seems to look at this situation saddens me. Like there was only one way to see it. But it isn't like that, I mean, I've learned so much in these last few days and even though it's troubling how much I didn't know, this is a fresh start and I'm going to make the best out of it.

"Sometimes people's advice can be really valuable. Like, I got some great lessons about being determined and keep working from my Maids back at home, and I bet you got those too from someone who loves you, or else you wouldn't be here. You are determined to learn as much as possible, just like me, so that we are given this opportunity alone makes this a good morning."

Now Luna does look up, with her expression an mixture of disbelief and anger. "I don't have anyone who loves me. I'm doing this for myself, if you care to know."

I let that sink in for a moment. No one who loves her? That seems super unrealistic and simply imagining to live like that is impossible. She must have a very negative outlook on life.

"What about your parents? Friends from school? I'm sure you have someone", I try to make her think, I'm sure that if she puts her mind to it, it will occur to her that she is important to someone.

"No. And now stop being so hideously friendly, I won't fall for that kind of an act", she snaps, her voice sharp as a knife.

"An act?" I ask, unsure what exactly she means, but it scares me, how she looks at me like I'm the enemy here.

She rolls her eyes. "I know you think you can make me trust you by playing sympathetic and understanding, but I've been through that and you know, people grow out of their experiences. I can handle myself without your oh-so-wise words and if you try that again, the first thing I'll do in the arena is split your skull with my hatchet!"

I wimper, wishing there was somewhere to go, or I hadn't even started this conversation. There woulde be blood and brain, and my eyes tear up as I imagine it for a second. "Please don't", I beg hurriedly, barely able to speak some words.

"Pf", comes her answer, a noise I can't quite pinpoint to an emotion, but I guess if she wanted to attack me, she would have. I wish I had my cat Flower to protect me. Yet she's not here, but home alone and probably missing me as well, while I'm here, where people threaten me with gruesome things like putting a hatchet in my skull.

I curl up into a ball, back against the wall and the girl from seven does the same. We sit there for a few minutes in silence, she glancing over to me, while I try to stop the tears, which won't stop streaming down my cheeks. I wish I could get away.

The other tributes start to arrive now, this time more talkative than yesterday, as some seem to have found friends and soon the doors are opened as well. I remember why I went down here so early in the first place – to get as much training as possible. So I get up with the support of the wall and hurry to get in, thinking about which station I should go for.

"I'm sorry", comes a whisper from behind me, Luna's voice silent and reluctant, completely different than what she has sounded like a few minutes ago.

"Apology accepted", I answer and give her a smile.

"Just like that?"

"Of course. I hope you aren't angry with me anymore?"

Her mouth goes into an O-shape and she shakes her head, nervously fixes her hair. "No, not at all. In fact, I could need some cheerfulness around, I just forgot that I wanted that new start earlier. I mean, it's not easy at all."

"Yeah, it's not. But we can make the best of it if we apply ourselves", I tell her.

"Right. So how about we find something to learn together?" She seems to struggle with a smile, but I take her words for enough motivation and it will be fun to have someone to talk to while learing. So I nod and we head towards the stations.

* * *

**Gnaeus Isselhardt (17) - District 1**

* * *

I look around satisfied as the spear hits its target, the dummies heart. The weapon feels exactly like home and things have been going well so far, even though the trainers here seem a bit retarded in some regards. I mean, and outlier migh have to rely on a wooden spear, but I'm sure getting into the cornucopia to secure all the best weapons. They still tried to make me test it, with the trainer Lillia hellbend on making me see how this experience could be helpful. Yeah, sure.

On my way to get the spears back for another round, someone puts a hand on my shoulder and stops me.

"Wow...that's impressive", says a girl who isn't Eleanor, making me quickly check that she's from eight, hair done in a high ponytail and expressive eye make-up making her look quite lovely, as she indignantly pulls her hand back. "Um, sorry, I just had to touch those muscles, they didn't seem real unless...well."

"Trying to flirt with a career, don't you think that's a bit dangerous?" I wink, leaning onto an impaled dummy, as I assess her from top to bottom, and I have to admit, she's quite something. Well fed and more of what you'd expect from someone from District 8, as she knows how to look good, being the only tribute who has chosen an oversized version of the training T-Shirt, which she has knotted on the side, though sadly no skin shows.

"What? I...I don't think I was trying to flirt...sorry if I offended you, I just wanted to be nice."

"Haha! No worries, you could never offend me with that", I assure her, wondering why she has decided to talk to me in the first place. My impressive muscles, really?

"Good. Good. Would have been just typical me, to ruin it before I could even ask you for an alliance, you see?" She looks down, seemingly desperate to vanish into the dusty gym floor.

"But you do know that we're not the protection guard, right? We're the wolves who'll be hunting you, even if that sounds cliche."

"Hm...I just thought you look so nice talking to each other and had fun together. Maybe you could make an exception for me?"

"I don't think so. As you've seen with your pretty eyes, we're a good team and can't afford to drag someone around. I say that to be nice." She looks up now, eyes wide and biting her lip. While it does look cute, it attests to my judgement being right here – she'd be of no use and there isn't even chance we could take her in.

"What? But I could be useful. I learned a lot about plants here, which ones are edible and which are poisonous. You don't have someone with that knowledge, right?"

Right. Still, if I wanted survival skills, I could just ask anyone. Also, am I really so sure? I decide to give a nod to Tanzan here, whom I've spotted talking to a guy at the plant station. I'll need to go over there and maybe stop him from doing that later.

"Well I don't know, maybe we do...with whatever Tanzan has been doing he could as well have become a master of wild herb salads."

"Please! If you don't take me in, I'll die in the bloodbath, and I don't want to die! At least with you I'd have a bit longer, and maybe it's stupid because it's just a couple of days, but it matters to me."

I can't help myself but to chuckle a bit, it's just interesting to see how desperate some of these other tributes can get. She went from shy to determined to panicked and I have to say that I feel luckier than ever now, to be one of those who they fear, not the other way around. Even this situation is stressful enough.

"Okay, calm down. Here's a tip, because I admire you trying: Just stay away from the bloodbath and you will survive. If you don't I'll eat you for breakfast and not in the sexy way."

With that I rip out the spear from the dummy, collect another one that's lying on the floor and move back, signaling the girl from eight that this conversation is over.

I look after her as she walks away with her head down, but there was something in the end that I thought might have been anger. Well, there was now way I was going to accept her into our alliance. It's fragile as it is and any new member would probably make me feel more on edge. I might know Eleanor, and I know she'd not have an outlier under any circumstances, but at least she'll be loyal till the end. I'm sure of that.

With the others, not so much. Halfway through the second day of training and I feel like I don't have a clue about who my opponents really are. Jade is definitley the easiest to assess, or so I thought until she started to talk to that twelve guy, they both throwing knives at the dummies for hours and hours. She always misses – but that is my only comfort.

Otherwise that girl is a ticking time bomb, always ready to go off and the way she and Eleanor butt heads makes me worry what is going to happen once they are allowed to actually hurt each other. It would be best this alliance stands as long as possible, yet if the girls get into a fight I', not sure what the pair from four will do then.

Even though I trained with Tanzan for a while yesterday, us throwing some punches and all, he still is a mystery to me, and at the same time might be my greatest enemy. In terms of scaring the other tributes he's been the most successful of us, weirdly enough by not showing his weapon skills at all. Instead he has gone around and talked to them, he's been to these survival stations the outliers are known to waist their time on and they usually run once they see him. Does he do that on purpose or does he actually want to make friends? In both cases that's a big worry for me, since for whatever reason, I feel he outshines me in making an impression here.

Talise is the least of my worries, as she clearly stated she hasn't trained as much, but she does seem useful and has been busy refining her dagger skills, as well as doing sprints, so she can be save at the cornucopia. The only thing that has me nervous about her is that she seems to be on Tanzans side, them making just as good as a District team as Eleanor and I. We will have to find a way to be better than them, set a plan into motion earlier, because clearly the element of surprise will be important.

* * *

**Back at it again, and yeah, you bet I'm giving everyone their opportunities to try and get into the career alliance, but I just feel like this is not a group that would let outsiders in easily :D Also, I'm honestly happy with the dynamics most of these characters have, because I can just make them talk, and talk, and talk...and that's fun to write!**

**I did only manage two POVs for this chapter, so it's a bit short, but I'd rather post something short than being late again, and overall this doesn't matter so much, since it's still the same Training day – it just means that there will be four POVs in the next chapter, so I can catch up. **

**Thank you so much for all the reviews, it's super fun to read your thoughts and that motivates me a ton! **

**See you next week :) **


	21. Chapter 21 - Trainings Day 2, Part 2

**Miles Gader (16) - District 9**

* * *

There aren't enough tables in the lunch area for everyone to sit alone, but I'm lucky to have found one, and that others have allied and are sitting together. On the one hand it's strange not to have people to talk to, on the other hand I don't feel good talking to people who would want to go after my life in only three days. Only three days left.

Kayden would know what to do, which stations to learn from and who to ask for an alliance, how to be effective and not stress out all the time. There have been little conflicts all over the place, and I myslef was involved in one as well, where the youngest from eleven has verbally attacked me, even though all I wanted was to make her a compliment.

She has looked miserable and continues to look miserable, yet a different kind, if that makes sense. Contrary to that, my District partner Marigold has looked better. She likes to be called only "Mari", though I love her full name, since only that can do the beauty of that flower justice. It's in a vase, up in my bedroom in the nineth floor, where it still looks fresh, but I know the leafs will wither away within the next days.

I've sat with Marigold at lunch yesterday, where she told me about her music, and I wish I could hear her play. Now she's over at a different table with the boy from District 8, where they smile and even laugh and I can honestly say that I'm happy for her.

I just wish I could feel the same safety as she probably does now. I know there will be no one who has my back in the arena, at least not to a point where I can trust anyone to save my life and that is good knowledge, says our mentor.

With a sigh I turn my head, as there is noise coming from a few feet behind me, where the buffet is layed out. The girl from District 6 has positioned herself on the floor there, probably because no empty table is available, and she eats syrup-drained pancakes out of her bare hands. Some has drizzled on the floor, right onto even more pancakes she seems to have hoarded there, as she stuffs her face with the baked goods, yet she isn't savage about it, but rather slow in eating.

"Hey, you can sit over here. It's disgusting to see you eating like that" I tell her and get her attention, pleased that she doesn't look offended.

"Ok."

She collects her food and slowly gets up, which seems to be a great effort, though she finally makes it and sits opposite of me.

"You can use my plate, if the crumbles don't bother you. What's you name? I'm Miles." I push it over to her, having only eating some slices of bread off of it, so it shouldn't be a problem, and I'm now busy with the dessert anyways, which is pineapple and chocolate cake.

"Halexa", she answers with a full mouth, though luckily nothing drops out and I regret it a bit to have invited her here, since now I have to stare at her eating all the way until lunch is finished and we are allowed to spend some freetime, before the second half of training begins. She could at least have thanked me.

The plan is to revisit spear fighting, as I have already gotten an introduction to it yesterday and it went reasonably well, not perfect, but giving me the ability to defend myself a bit, getting close combat and range together.

"Do you have any fun facts about pancakes? I'm collecting for a presentation." The sudden wakeness in her voice surprises me, as Halexa looks up from her half-eaten food and the blue eyes sparkle just a little, like they could be beautiful if it weren't for the dark rings underneath. She must either sleep very little, or way too much.

"That's nonsense", I give my opinion on her question, because where would she hold it and why? She does look pretty miserable, but not dumb. The interviews are there to tell about yourself, make yourself look good and likeble, not fool around like this.

Halexa shrugs with a twitch of her mouth, then goes back to eating like it doesn't bother her at all that I haven't given her an answer. It worries me, since everyone else would certainly care – so I think back and try to remember pancakes.

"My mother used to make them for me, but they weren't as special as other sweets. I only really like them with strawberry sauce...and then I wouldn't even share them with the troubled kids I housed in my room."

"Ok."

* * *

**Amran Hibiscu (15) – District 2**

* * *

The Capitol is nothing like home, even though I always thought I didn't like District 2 to a point where I could miss it. The rain doesn't sound the same when it hits the streets here and the trees I can see from the balcony of my bedroom are countable on one hand. The voice controled radio has some country music, yet it's all refined and perfect, not like the old disks in Dina's living room.

I sit outside in my training T-Shirt, my body longing for some more activity. The forced training break after lunch might suit some well, for me, it's strange though. The arena won't give us time to digest our food before a fight. Better be able to be at your best with a full belly.

It was hard to avoid Jade over yesterday and this morning, but I am better off doing so, especially because it's not only her who gets angry every time we're in the same room. I shouldn't risk getting into a fight before the Games start. The upcoming bloodbath makes me nervous enough.

Sometimes I think it would be better to go alone, like I've always done, because I had to, but here no one knows me and to my surprise, Jade hasn't tried to drag me down in the eyes of the other tributes. She might have told her allies, no more. Most still stare at me, a career who isn't with the careers, and most still are afraid of me, for obvious reasons.

They better be. I'm going to win this, yet I think it's wise to make some allies at least for the earlier part of the Games. Maybe the careers will be out to hunt me – I could take two of them, maybe three, but not all. A human only has so many arms.

After considering my options carefully, and with the help of my mentor Cain, I came to the conclusion that the biggest alliance would be the best possible option. For a while, I had in mind to ask the guy from seven, Wolf, but now he'll be my backup option, should the first plan fail. It will not fail, though.

There has been a hiccup, in which the twelve boy went to train with Jade, and somehow I though she had spied on me, got ahead of me and joined their alliance first, which would leave me without option, yet she hasn't, because she isn't clever enough for such a thing. She has just robbed my potential alliance of a member, which is bad in itself, though the damage isn't drastic and we will live. Quite literally.

The clock tells me that it's time to return to training, finally. How am I going to go about getting myself into that alliance? I know myself well, therefore I know of my weaknesses in talking. I just didn't get much practice back home, where Dina and Merrick were my only friends, and everyone else avoided me.

Maybe I should have used my situation more to intimidate the others – but there is still time left, in the interview for example, and I might not like it to pride myself in horrible actions, yet the Capitol might see it as an asset, and I won't need to be specific.

My potential alliance might like it as well, that I can bring some experience with me. It's well known that many outlier tributes are shy to get their hands dirty, so I can do that part, because I'm not afraid to kill. I won't loose myself in it, and it will be fine.

I will be fine. I will be fine.

I push myself off of the chair, leave the cool air behind me and make my way back down into the training hall fast – better get this over with soon. Better get some certainty soon.

* * *

**Blairoxx Alvena (16) – District 8**

* * *

My lungs are burning and I gasp for air, but it can't stop the acid in my stomach from making me spit on the floor like I was some savage old man who lives in a street corner. I stare at the white bubbly substance with disgust and fear, as it crawls into my head that this performance won't save me from death at the cornucopia. Getting away is one thing, but the coach also gave me the thought to consider, that there might not be an immediate hiding option.

I might have to run for my life for several minutes, and I just can't do that. I can barely manage the quater of a mile track in a decent amount of time, yet as I'm experiencing right now, there's not much more in it for me. If just the careers had taken me in, I now wouldn't have to bother with sprinting at all...

"Breathe steady. Don't sit down or your circulatory system will give you trouble."

The trainer hands me a bottle of water and I take small sips, keeping them in my mouth for a moment like she's shown me, before I swallow. A part of me wants to be thankful, then again, she's part of the Capitol and I remember she will soon be in front of her TV like all the others, having fun to see me fight for my survival. I resist the urge to spit out the water, instead calm my breathing even more until I feel secure on my feet again.

"I'm going to go refresh myself at the water fountain", I tell the trainer, who nods and walks away.

When I thought the Capitol had given us a luxurious lifestyle back home, I couldn't have imagined what it would be like here. This fountain works with a sensor, so I only need to hold my hand underneath and the cool, clear water starts flowing. Careful not to ruin my light make-up, I dab my wet palms on my cheeks and temple.

"Are you afraid of water?" asks someone beside me and I jump in surprise, only to scold myself inwardly for it. Don't look like a coward...then again, I did decide that being scared would probably keep the other tributes off my trail for a bit.

"No...I'm not", I answer the question, which came from a short guy with tanned skin, green eyes and blonde hair. He has a smug smile on his face, not hiding his interest in my curves at all. Even though he turned me down, that Gnaeus from one was more respectful. "Please don't stare", I add, making my voice silent and sweet, in the hopes that shyness will still convince him.

It doesn't. I want to frown, but stop myself. What good is it to be a great actor if I don't know about psychology? It's frustrating, really. I've squinted my eyes, I secretly stared at people from a hiding place for a long time, I've watched their body language during conversations, but I'm none the wiser about what I need to do to make them act as I want them to.

"I was just thinking how it would be a pity to cut you open like we do in the butchery, but I could spare you for a bit of time if you were to be my ally."

This is the moment when I drop the act, because it honestly won't matter at this point. I need an alliance and for sure it's not someone like him. My face returns from scared to normal. I might be insane, yet this apparent death-threat doesn't rattle me. Afterall, we're in the Hunger Games, so of course he would want to kill me. It's just that someone that keen on murder, and so cocky about it at that, doesn't make for good alliance material.

In other circumstances I would value his honesty about that, though here it is apparent that he'd betray me the second it gets dangerous. He'd use me as a shield, if even that, or just straight up slit my throat in the night.

"No, sorry", I say and grin at his reaction. "There's a high chance we won't even meet in the arena, so keep expectations low."

I turn and walk away, the dreadful sprinting station suddenly way more appealing than before. I will make sure that when we do meet, I'll be ready to make him look like a fool.

* * *

**Jade Dove (18) – District 1**

* * *

"He has a right to be here, he's good enough! And you can believe me if I say so."

We have gathered about an hour before training ends and after today, I brought Austin with me. As promised – and I still can't believe he upheld it – we went to the knife-throwing station this morning, where he tried to explain his technique to me. Cornfirming my picture of twelve, he chose a makeshift knife out of wood and sharp stone, with terrible balance probably, but for whatever reason, the trainer squealed in excitement when she saw him hit the target with it. In the middle of our session she came over to me, whispering how I should _'keep this one at any cost'. _

So here we are, Eleanor being her typical bitchy self, even more than before, as she throws her arms up in fury.

"But look at him! He's dirty, he's ugly, he's probably stupid, what good can he be?"

Austin, who stands beside me, opens his mouth, but is cut off from whatever he wants to say by Gnaeus. Even I can tell that his chuckle isn't an expression of amusement.

"I'm confused – wasn't the dislike for outlier tributes the only thing you had common ground on?" he asks.

"Well I changed my mind", I shoot back, feeling the need to underline my point. I have good reason for it, he better believe that. Why is it that no one seems to respect me here?

"We're down one person anyway, so why not consider it?" Talise throws in and I smile, finally someone who understands me. She's been rather reserved, though a better ally than both from one.

"I'd be fine with him", Tanzan shrugs and I see how this can go the right way now. Three against two should totally work.

"If you let him stay, I'll leave – that's why not. I'm not gonna have him run back to his former friends and betray us."

"You what?", Gnaeus turns his head to look at his District partner in surprise, but she stares at me like this was a challenge. Does she think I'd care if she left?

"So leave!" I tell her right into her face, gulping down the lump in my throat about that she might not take me seriously afterall. But I'm not joking – if the trainer tells me to take Austin, I will. He might be strange, because he said a lot of strange things today, but he is useful.

"She isn't going to leave. We're not going to take Austin in, sorry", Gnaeus words sound like they are final, as he directs them at Austin himself, who flinches, but seems to have finally found his voice again.

"I swear, I don't plan to betray you", he starts as his different coloured eyes wander hectically between the pair from one. "I left my original alliance, they won't take me back after this. Jade promised me I could join you, so I definetly left them for good. But why don't you let your leader decide?"

"We don't have a leader, sunshine", comes a counter from Gnaeus.

"Then we vote on one. I vote Tanzan", I interrupt with a winning grin, looking at the District four boy as he doesn't even seem to realise what's going on.

"I vote Gnaeus!", Eleanor shoots back.

"Stop. I don't want to be leader."

No it is my turn to stare at Tanzan in disbelief. He shakes his head vehemently, damn him. Refusing such an honour as to lead the careers? And I would have taken that task in a heartbeat for myself, but right now I can best benefit to have someone else, who will be on my side.

"You serious?!" I shout, anger rushing into my head as I step towards him, gaze firmly locked with his, who didn't seem to expect that reaction.

"Woah, calm down", I hear Austin whisper from the side, but of course he can't know how we handle things here.

"I'm dead serious. Now back off. Also, if it breaks the alliance, I'm against taking your friend."

"I won't calm down if everyone is against me and has lost all their good judgement. You know what? Austin and I are going to leave and if you come to your senses, we can talk."

Now it's pride that I feel, for getting this out so straightforward and calm. I know it's a decision on a whim, but there is no other option. I couldn't stand Eleanor one more heartbeat and if she isn't leaving, I'll be. I'll take my asset with me, and tomorrow they'll come apologising anyway – they'll see they need me once they start the strategy talking.

* * *

**Find a real author's note at the end of next chapter – since this was posted as part of a double chapter :) **


	22. Chapter 22 - Training Day 3, Freetime

**Poplin Ombre (14) – District 8**

* * *

"I hope the arena has a real sky. With all the stars you'd see at night, like in the real world."

"So you know something about star navigation? I heard there was a way to use them, but I have no clue how."

Mari sits opposite of me on a white leather sofa, netween us our glasses of water, in which she watches the bubbles go up. She has put her dark hair up into a ponytail even though there is no training today, and it looks to neat, too often done in her life, probably for rich-family stuff, like dinners and meetings.

Does she consider this a meeting? The dress suggests it, contrasting her coffee skin, but she's warned me not to ask about her private life, because that's none of my business. Well, she's right there...at least that we have in common. Otherwise, we seem to be different and this night I thought several times about why I would even ally myself with a rich girl.

Now she looks up in surprise. "Navigation? No, I just find stars beautiful."

Urgh. Dreaming of stars and fairytails, or what? I want to symbolically stick a finger in my mouth, but doubt she would find that funny at all. So I settle for a chuckle and a bit of a side blow towards the Capitol. "Fair point. But I wouldn't put it past them to ruin that as well."

"I'm optimistic. Most arenas are some kind of nature environment, so there should be a sky. And I plan to see it, unless of course...No. Lin, please tell me you don't want to go into the bloodbath, or do you?"

I hesitate for a moment. Real arena tactics are more intimidating than I imagined and honestly, I avoided them until now. Damn them, making me think about how to avoid my own death, because that's what it's all about. The only ones able to attack are the careers, if we're being realistic. It sucks. Not only are the Games an unfair punishment, but the mechanics, how everything works here.. Right, I need to answer.

"Haven't thought it through – but what have we learned all the fighting for, if we don't get weapons to put it to practice?" I put my doubts into words best as I can, but it feels weird. I'm no good with the serious talking.

"The trainer said if I can fight with a spear, I can use a stick just as fine. For us to get a spear and a sword like we learned to use, we'd have to go all the way and that's how you die on the first day", Mari says after some consideration, still making it sound more like a question than a statement.

"A stick will be heavier and you can barely hold up the actual spear for a whole fight", I tell her, at which she immediatley bites her lips in anger, yet it's true, not even accounting for the much sharper tip of a real spear. "But you're right, I don't want to go into the middle of the bloodbath either. I might be mad, but not that much. We should get some food and water", I suggest. That can't be wrong now, can it?

"Alright. If something's close, I guess", she agrees with a nod and a thankful smile. So that's it, I made that decision now? I gulp down the lump in my throat – so easy to set your potential death date up.

"And if not? Hey, I don't want your complaints if you can't eat what you like, okay?"

"I'm not stupid. I know the arena is not a buffet."

"I saw you pick the carrots out of your soup at yesterdays lunch. What will you do if the only thing we have is a bag of carrots?"

The image is still fresh in my head, way worse than just the carrots. She had fished them out one by one, stacked them up on her napkin, followed by the celery pieces, then the potatoes. It was a massacre and I know my mother would have hit me on the head for such behaviour, even back when our relationship was still good.

"That's absurd. There will be something else", Mari insists. I stop myself from getting angry, instead seing it as a challenge to make her turly disgusted.

"Dried beetles, then? I'll eat half of'em and then put the rest into someone elses' sleeping bag. Scare them to death" I wink at her, making my fingers into crwling legs. To my surprise, she raises an eyebrow and puts on a happy face.

"I'd actually try those. I don't find them gross when seeing them, and I like meat."

"What? Okay, one surprise point for you." I didn't expect that. Aren't all girl supposed to be scared of bugs? Even some of my own neighbours had that.

"Thanks. Now, you need to earn a surprise point for yourself, so that we're even."

She leans forward in the sofa a bit with what I guess is honest interest. She doesn't want us to argue, but to get to know each other. Even though we are allies right now, is that such a good idea? But it's hard to resist, since I know a lot of things to tell her in order to earn said surprise point.

* * *

**Luna Hayden (18) – District 7**

* * *

I was dreadful when I got reaped. I was furious when the Escort forbid me to take any more pain medication. I was hopeful when I swung an hatchet again, but that didn't last long, as I fell to the ground gasping.

If I had slowly built up my endurance, and my lungs capability over time, I could have been alomst like my old self by now. Simple as that, the trainer said it, in very simple words, but the Doctors at home didn't know – or at least they never told me. So here I am, educated people telling me I could have had a life even with a single lung, but I wasted it because I didn't know better.

No need to say, the District 7 apartment was a mess afterwards.

Nike, who kindly invited me into his own room, could never get so angry. The weird boy from three remains a mystery to me in his naivity, but I imagine I might have been the same, at least on some grounds, before my world broke down. And while my wake-up call was brutal, I want his to be as gentle as possible with the start of the Games just around the corner.

It's tearing me apart inside. I should know better. He could be playing me just like that Avox Bella did with both Solace and me. They cut out her tongue for murder, yet we believed she was the nicest, caring person in the world. Nike isn't a criminal by any means, but he is rich, and spoiled, and his parents must be the cruelst people alive – if they shared at least a bit of their money, nobody would have to take out tesserae.

He told me of them for hours, and I told him my judgement. _'Really? Maybe there is some rule that prevents them from doing that...' _he said in tears, because tears seem to be one of his go-to reactions to anything. He's scared of snakes. Scared of the careers. Scared of the dark. Scared of blood. Scared of being hunted. Scared of death. How is he going to be useful in the arena?

Shockingly, though, he listened to every single word of mine and thanked me for it. When for years, people were driven away from my harsh comments, he was grateful for me trying to be mean. He didn't even realise I wanted to get rid of his presence. I almost cried too when it didn't work, but was too exhausted to get even more emotional.

"You don't look so good. Do you want me to get you some water?", Nike asks as he gets out a pen and paper from a cupboard.

"That won't help. The headache is from pain-med withdrawl. They won't give them to me, even though those have been in first aid kits in the arena every year."

"Hm, that seems illogical. But we can get you some once we're in then", he says encouragingly and I raise an eyebrow at him, for why has he chosen to care about me?

"We? Who even determined we were allies?" Do I want to go in a death battle with him? No. Do I want to go alone? Maybe. Do I want him to go alone? No.

"Um, we talked a lot, and you were so nice to me, I just thought we are. Have I gotten that wrong again?" Nike asks, sounding pityful, since he's probably been in a lot of trouble due to his unworldliness. His big, scared eyes bore into mine and I sigh.

"So fine. I'll grab us weapons and you go for the supplies which are closest to you – then we meet up and run. Afterwards, we'll see."

"Thank you, that sounds great! I thought about finding water and maybe do some electricity traps...if I get the right stuff, I could make our weapons give electro shocks! That's what I wanted to show you, I experimented with it yesterday. Here."

He finally makes use of the paper he got out earlier, drawing lines and patterns and connection on it which I don't understand, but to him they seem to make some sense. Then he writes a list of materials, probably what he'd need, all the time grinning like he was having the greatest fun with this. I decide to stop him.

"Nike? Nike. You are stupid to show me now – what if I decided to walk away and don't be your ally anymore? Then I'd have the knowledge, and you'd have nothing."

His eyes go wide, then sad. "But you promised just a few minutes ago...why do people break their promises?"

"For their own advantage. Especially in the Games, that's natural. So better get used to the fact that you can't trust anyone."

"Okay. Trust no one but you", he says, repeating the last sentence a couple of times. I shake my head, but don't correct him – I guess he is right. I couldn't kill him and right now, I couldn't let anybody else kill him. However, I know that sometimes you don't know yourself all so well – my brother Solace never thought I could kill a person either.

* * *

**Connor DuPlessis (15) – District 5**

* * *

The floor is littered with pieces of paper, all in the different District colours, with the names of the tributes on them and Leela starts ordering them for their current alliance status, while I cut out some directional arrows in white.

"Do you think much will change now?", she asks with a wary voice, eyes fixiated on the pieces she already has put together.

"No. After the private sessions some may chicken out though", I give my opinion, strangely thankful for the conversation, as it makes me forget how my fingers hurt from holding the scissors for so long.

"Okay."

Leela goes back to her task and for a few minutes, it's silent again. I'm glad she isn't very talkative, so we haven't had to do much of the 'get-to-know-each-other' stuff. Since we're going to be enemies soon enough, it wouldn't make much sense and we only need to know that we can work together – which we can enjoyably well.

It was stressful at first, with Leela a watchful girl, and her eyes disturbed me quite a bit. Robot-eyes, but she hates it when I call them that. I still think their cool.

"I'm done."

I put away the scissors and come over, both of us standing up to have a better look at the alliances she put together from what we came to know during training. The careers are on top, with the names of Eleanor – District 1, Gnaeus – District 1, Talise – District 4 and Tanzan – District 4.

"I like that they are a smaller group than usual. Maybe someone can beat them, or at least it'll be easier to get away if we meet them", I comment.

"If we meet them, we failed. No, I fear they might stick together better, now that the rebels have sorted themselves out so early", Leela picks some dirt out from under her nails, then nervously fumbles with her fingers.

"Yeah, we should avoid them as long as we can, but we should also stay away from the group with Amran, Owen, Kitana and Wisteria. If it weren't so unpredictable, we could set them up to fight..."

Leela nods exaggeratedly. "Definetly. I don't like that their so unpredictable – even more than the careers, because they could have so many secret skills..."

One thing that just creeps me out is that she doesn't close her eyes when she's deep in thought. She just keeps them wide open, seemingly staring into her own head, and doesn't appreciate to be pulled out of that state. Luckily, she doesn't stay in there for long right now, and instead moves on.

"Then we have Jade and Austin, Nike and Luna, Poplin and Marigold...and us two. Leaves eight loners, which isn't much anyway, but I know some are still searching."

We agree to mark the allied tributes with a symbol on their name card, and will just go with what we have at the moment for cornucopia strategies. After we are done, Leela picks up the pieces and throws them into the air, so they are in no particular order anymore.

"Now, close your eyes and arrange them in a circle", she orders and I go down to my knees, feeling stupid. Well, but how else should we do it?

"What if they do a triangle this time?" I joke, but only get an _'hmpf'_ as answer. The cornucopia has always been a circle. Fairest. The best order. Once I'm done, I open my eyes again, looking at the random draw I've made.

We decided it would be wise to go through a couple of different cornucopia scenarios today, so we can be prepared for whatever should happen on that morning. If we both know what to do in which case, we can be the fastest, without wasting time for sponatneous arrangements or misunderstandings. I look at the picture and frown.

"This looks terrible", I speak my mind, but then I realise that probably all of the options will look like this. Always someone near who is dangerous, who could try and kill me immediatley.

"I honestly just don't want to go in there at all...but we really should. Without supplies it's likely we'll be short of at least one thing that is hard to come by in this particular arena", Leela argues, but it's the first time there is actual emotion, worry, in her voice. Her feet tap on the floor, like she'd run right now, if she could.

Would I run, too? I'm not sure, though it's certainly a possibility.

"Well...if we stand about a quarter of a circle apart like this, it would be wise for us to stay in that part – each one gets something in a straight line in front of us, then we run back that line and meet up", I start planning and put down some of the arrows I cut out earlier to show her.

"Good. If the terrain behind us is at all usable, we should go there. But I don't like how close I'm placed to Galvan here. I'd take a slightly longer way, just to avoid him."

She moves some arrows and I agree. Then again, it strikes me as almost impossible to avoid any potentially dangerous tributes – there are too many and with some, we'll just have to hope they want a good weapon and amount of supplies more than an early kill. I can fight back, at least more than Leela, but I don't know how I woul dreact in an actual battle, and it would cost too much time to even engage in a fight.

"Let's do another one", I tell Leela, suddenly in a panic that we won't get the chance to play out all the eventualities.

* * *

**Um...hi? Skipped a week again, and it wasn't even because I wasn't done with the chapter, but because I hated it. I still do, but now that I fumbled around with phrases and stuff, I know it won't get better. So yeah, I hate how training Day 2 turned out – maybe one of you can tell me what's wrong with it? **

**Contrary to that, I'm super proud of this Freetime chapter, since it looks at the dynamics within some alliances more, and it has a ton of conversation, which is just my thing. **

**I hope you had a great Christmas/are having a great Christmas and I know things are stressful around that time of year for many people. Therefore, and because I'm late, you can still bet on the private session stuff (see Ch. 19 for more info) until the 1st of January. I can't believe the next chapter will be out next year.**

**See you next time with the private sessions!**


	23. Chapter 23 - Private Sessions

_At no ones' mercy but your that of your own choices. _

* * *

**Tanzan Oshane (18) – District 4**

* * *

Even though they told us that the private sessions would last about twenty minutes for each tribute, I didn't expect to be here so long. Gnaeus and Eleanor are lucky, free to do whatever they like for the whole day and while the former complained a bit about having to get up so early, I'm sure he'll make up for that by taking a nap right now already.

Talise fumbles nervously with two loose ends of rope, staring at it with a frustration I can't get behind, since the net she's made with it looks quite normal. We have been in the warm-up hall for about an hour now, no actual training is supposed to happen here, but there is a bit of each equipment to rehearse what you want to show for the last time, get the blood flowing and muscles ready.

"What's wrong?" I ask her, looking over her shoulder and examine her net more closely, a good way to get rid of my own worries that have rudely started to built up in the back of my mind.

"It's not cleanly put together – see here? The nots can still be moved and some spaces are bigger than they should...", she answers and points to certain spots, but having seen fishernets for all my life, I think I know them well enough to judge that with this, you could catch your prey effectively.

"Ah, you're being perfectionist. Any net of yours is usable, and your dagger skills are great as well", I try to cheer her up, but only get a hint of a forced smile.

"Have you seen Eleanor work with her weapons? She's by far better than me and I don't know why, but I always think...what if I just won't hit the target anymore? It's stupid, sorry."

It is indeed a weird though, because why wouldn't she hit? I have to admit, Talise isn't as agile in her movements as our ally from one, but she's more calm and it should still be a good score. Like Mags has told us, scores only matter so much, until you get the advantage another way.

"You got this, don't worry", I tell Talise and give her a pad on the shoulder, this time receiving a brighter smile, as she adjusts her ponytail. I have to admit, she is cute that way, being bold enough to volunteer not only for herself, and I know grandma would have liked her. _"She might be stupid, but she's bold"_, she would have said.

"You as well – good luck!"

Finally my name is called by a weird electronic voice and I roll my eyes. Why couln't they just have a human get me to the training hall? I mean, this is worse and probably cost a lot of effort to record, since it has to be done new every year.

Truth be told, I haven't spend much thought at all about what I'm going to show the Gamemakers. Just the usual, my skills with a maze, and we were told that's enough – there are stories about tributes planing something spectacular, out of the ordinary stuff. I don't understand why someone would spend the energy to do that, for possibly a point more or so. I'll take whatever my usual efforts will get me and that shouldn't be too bad either.

As I walk down a hallway to a side entrace of the training hall, I take grin to myself. This has been going so fast and to be frank, I didn't fully have the time to appreciate the opportunity and how far I've come already.

With a grin I greet the Gamemakers, the Head of them with the name Ignatius Ross standing at the edge of their gallery. They have a buffet with the typical strong smells coming down all the way to my nose, making my stomach rumble with excitement despite the breakfast being only two hours ago. Well, I didn't get my second breakfast due to private session times, but I'll certainly fetch a bigger meal right after this.

"Good morning to you up there – I'm going to show you some mace fighting first, and then we'll see" I announce and it feels a bit weird, because back home this was way more informal and of course I knew everyone who was watching. The Escort had orderd us to introduce ourselves fully with name and such, but I guess it's a weird tradition or so, because they ought to know who comes from which District anyway, right?

I walk up to the weapons and choose a middle-weighted one with rough surface and a spike at the top, then arrange some training dummies around me. My first few swings are more to test out the feel than anything else, as I didn't try this one in training before and just thought it looked effective. I like the swing and go through my typical basic movements first, swing from top down, side to side, overhead, curved swings.

Then I decide it's time to go for the dummies and I slam the weapon right into the first one's chest, it flying away with some pieces getting stuck on my weapon. I pick them off of it and continue, this time a bit more control in my attack, crushing the skull cleanly, the next dummy getting it's legs wiped away. As it falls to the ground on it's back I stomp on the ripcage and immeditaley it breaks.

Five on the ground and I decide that this must be enough, since I really have no clue how much time is left. At the sound of applause I glance over to the Gamemakers for a second, and I wish I could be the one munching Popcorn, because that'd be way more comfortable than beeing judged down here.

I look around for what to do next, because weaponry can't be the only thing I show, as I spot a trainer in the corner of the room and wave him over to me.

"You up for a good old hand-to-hand match?" I ask him and he nods, so we quickly get into the various paddings so no one gets severely hurt in this. I do feel a bit of pity for him, since his job is basically to get beaten up, but he chose it himself, so that's on him I guess. I got beaten up myself many times before, and I have to chuckle at myself, because in the end we are probably not that different in our choice of profession. Only difference that I come from a District, while he's from the Capitol, where you can't go into the Hunger Games.

We start out fight with a rather large distance between us, so I decide to go for a fun tactic, which includes me running full speed at the man who is about two heads shorter than me, but still pretty muscled. I know I probably won't hit him, and so it is, but I never planned to and instead stop aprubtly, turning around to slam both my hands into his neck as he comes out of his ducked position.

It's a good hit and he flaps onto his stomach realeasing all the air inside his lungs and at this time I would have won, but I let him get up so this can take a bit longer.

* * *

**Wisteria Lockwind (16) – District 12**

* * *

Alone, finally. After Austin left for his private session, there is utter silence in the waiting room, as I've decided not to stay in the warm-up hall. It would tire my arms, and they are sore as is, so all I can do is pray that I'll be able to swing that sword with a rush of adrenaline.

For the last tow days I've always had some kind of company, the Escort waking me up, rushing me to breakfast first thing in the morning, all the other tributes during the day and of course my allies, then Escort and Mentor and Austin again for dinner, after which I basically fell dead into my soft sheets, unable to calm my mind.

I lean back against the wall, my hair tousling as it touches, and close my eyes, an annoying bleeping noise still ringing in my ears. I know it's nothing real, just that disturbance you get from time to time, but I desperatley want it to stop. Just a tiny moment for myself.

Wind blowing through high trees far behind the fence of District 12, picking off grass straws in boredome while waiting for Hunter in his backyard, making soup in our kitchen, hiding in the shadows as I peak trough the shopwindows in the merchant section – fancy dresses of all colours wanting to be worn.

The Capitol has no boredom left for me, there is always something exciting happening, and I wish at least – if they are going to kill me – I had a day for myself, to explore this beautiful city, wear a over-the-top dress like a proper Capitolite Lady, even though dresses aren't me, but it would be an interesting tranformation.

"Wisteria Lockwind, District 12", calls an electronic voice and I open my eyes. Is it time already?

I get up from my sitting position and stretch for a moment, ready to show the Gamemakers that I'm prepared for whatever they have coming for me. Even though I could bore them with plant knowledge, I am going to show them my fighting skills, as that is what they want to see, right? Granted, I might not be on level with a career, but Amran, who surprisingly joined our group after Austin left, showed me some neat little tricks to make using a real sword a lot easier. I struggled with the transition form wooden stick to iron blade, yet of course the latter is what I want to use in the arena.

As I enter the training hall I frst don't see the Gamemakers, but I can hear them. They talk to each other in excited voice, more awake than I had hoped, since our Escort had warned us that they'd have eleven hours of tribute presentations already behind them and would run on caffeine, if the alcohol wasn't making them too tired for even that.

"Hello. I'm Wisteria Lockwind from District 12", I introduce myself and get a bunch of nods, some yawns, but at least attention.

The swords are close to me and I pick the one with which I've been practising, a two-handed weapon with medium length blade, simple and effective. Immediatley my arms start aching. I have to endure it. No one is going to give me an off day in the arena either.

So I swing it, slashing through a dummies stomach with force, hacking at another ones' shoulder, always alert to not show them how my strength fails me every time the movement is done, but once in a while the tip of the blade makes screeching scratching noises on the floor. Damn it. I keep going until I can't anymore – tomorrow I can rest. Tomorrow will be only the interviews.

"Miss Lockwind? You have five minutes left, if you want to show us something else." One of the Gamemakers pulls me out of my concentration and I must look a bit stupified at the fact that he has spoken to me at all. I didn't think we were allowed to have a conversation with them? On the top of my head there is nothing I want to show, so I put the sword away.

"If I had just a few more days, I could get strong enough to use a real sword. I practised with a stick at home, but the weight doesn't compare", I turn to tell them. What is there to loose? I don't think it will lessen my score, if at all it won't have any effect, and they can't really punish me now, since they have already put the worst sentence upon me.

The Gamemaker raises an eyebrow, which is only visible due to its' violet colour. "Then why didn't you show us what you can do with a stick?", he asks in clear confusion.

"Well, a stick won't help me against a sword in the arena" I argue and he chuckles.

"That's right indeed. Well then, Miss Lockwind – your time is up."

With a swish some door behind me open, as if ready to throw me out and I leave with a frown on my face. What the hell was this about? It's hard to talk to people, especially strangers, and understand what they're getting at. Maybe it was just a simple comment. An elderly man who wanted a conversation. Oh my, I am sick of conversations.

* * *

**Wolf Axehandler (17) – District 7**

* * *

"Are you trying to murder the table?" Pan, my mentor, muses as we sit and wait for the private session scores. He is next to me, holding a glass of sparkling liquor in his right, tapping the fingers of his left, as he watches me.

"No", I tell him, but I get why he thinks so. Everything in the training center is enraging me. The food, the view, the servants, the furniture...it screams money with every atom, money they would never think of using to help the Districts with, money my family lost the very second my grandmother had passed away. The message is clear: Be a victor of the Hunger Games, and you'll see that kind of money again.

So this is why I am here, granted, a year earlier than I had expected, but nonetheless prepared. If prepared is the right word to use, since you can never really know what they have waiting, once you are inside the arena. Two Days.

But first come the scores, which they remind me of by making the TV switch on itself. Ceasar Flickerman, the young face of the Games, sits on a chair in front of white background, his lifely voice filling the room through the speakers.

Luna twitches in her armchair and a strand of hair escapes her grip. She was about to tie it into a complicated braid, twisted in several directions. She catches it again, ignoring my look at her. Somehow I'm glad she looks better today. Whatever troubled her, it doesn't go as deep into her eyes and she has eaten more at dinner, though that still doesn't mean she looks healthy.

I shake myself, she's my District partner and that's probably why I care, though it's stupid and I shouldn't. We have survived the last couple of days by strictly ignoring each other, not in a mean way, but not to bother ourselves with uncomfortable chatting, and I would love it to stay the same until the Games.

So, what have I gotten? I've spent all my training days learning new stuff, which granted, did go better than expected, yet still isn't anywhere near as good as the things I taught myself at home. Still, I didn't only show axe fighting to the Gamemakers, but some survival skills as well, in hopes they would like the even distribution of skills. Then again, no one can know what goes on in the head of a Gamemaker and I wouldn't be surprised if they just favour the careers anyway.

One after the other, the number come on the screen, Ceasar triumphantly announcing them each time.

**Scores:**

**D1**

Male: Gnaeus Isselhardt – 9

Female: Eleanor Prada – 8

**D2**

Male: Ámran Hibiscu – 10

Female: Jade Dove – 1

**D3**

Male: Nike Queerin – 3

Female: Leela Garmin – 5

**D4**

Male: Tanzan Oshane – 10

Female: Talise Belle – 7

**D5**

Male: Connor DuPlessis – 5

Female: Kitana Olivier – 4

**D6**

Male: Owen Yearling – 8

Female: Halexa Caraudi – 1

**D7**

Male: Wolf Axehandler – 7

Female: Luna Hayden – 6

**D8**** \- **

Male: Poplin Ombre – 5

Female: Blairoxx Alvena – 3

**D9**

Male: Miles Gader – 5

Female: Marigold Rye – 4

**D10**

Male: Meat Lucher - 5

Female: Mira Gesby - 4

**D11**

Male: Galvan Moss - 6

Female: Haru Ryuji – 8

**D12**

Male: Austin Terrine – 10

Female: Wisteria Lockwind – 6

"Congrats!", Pan says and raises a hand to high-five me, and I feel dumb for staring at him a second first, because I'm too slow to realise what he wants of me. I take his invitation, though.

A seven – that's alright. Not as great as the careers, but I never had their luxury and therefore, this should be okay. Some other tributes got a six, including Luna, and several have a five, which puts me above them, whereas I am shocked at the eight from that little girl Haru, from District 11. Sure she hid her talents in training, because I never saw her doing anything impressive there. Not that I watched very closely.

"I'll go to bed", I tell my mentor and the rest of the crew and am glad they already got accostumed to me not staying for their afterparties. The last thing I see from the corner of my eye is Luna getting up as well.

Back in my room I enjoy the quiet for a bit, before I jump onto the bed, where on the cusion, my open book lies. With twohundred pages left, I could manage to finish it today and if the interview training goes well, I already know which one I'll read next. Just one more book, fivehundred pages of me-time, then I'll be on everyones TV an unknown time. Hopefully a long time, despite it being an unpleasant situation.

I've barely gotten through two pages, when a knock on my door throws me out again.

"Who's there?" I demand to know, letting them hear I don't appreciate the distrubance. For sure they'll understand I want some freetime before I go fight to the death, no?

"A visitor from District 8", Pan calls back through the door and makes me raise an eyebrow before I remember he can't see it. Why would someone visit me, especially from another District?

"Well, if it's a short visit..." I say and stand up to see who it might be. I don't remember the tributes from 8, despite having seen their scores just minutes ago, so for sure I haven't talked to them during training at all.

"Sorry for being so spontaneous, but I'm a bit desperate. I haven't gotten any allies during training and you neither. So, since your score was quite high, I thought I'd try with you. I'm Blairoxx, by the way, but you'll have to call me Roxx", the girl in front of me introduces herself an I'm thankful she gets to the point so quickly.

Truth be told, I had planned to make allies, but it just never occured a situation where I would ask someone. I try to remember what score she got, but I can't – I it probably wasn't a high one. Not ideal, but a beggar isn't a chooser.

"Makes sense. Come in", I tell her – at least I can give her a chance.

* * *

**So I just realised, my inner calender is off – I was sure it was thursday, until I looked at my phone. Damn those holidays.**

**Still, this one was so fun to write! I found my muse in a dusty corner under my new, very own desk, and was actually done on tuesday already. Contrary to that, it was hard to make up these scores to be honest, but overall I'm okay with what each of them got and how they compare – any surprises for you? I hope so :D **

**Next chapter will be the Interviews, where each tribute will get a short part for themselves, so I hope it won't be too long, but I want to cover all of their tactics and get in some fun facts as well. **

**NEW SIDE PROJECT:**** In some New Year news, I've just published a side project, which is also a SYOT, but a rather non-traditional one, called **The Trials**. This will cover a year of training from a group of District 2 careers, who compete against each other to become the selected volunteer. If you're at all interested, please go check out the prologue and consider submitting! **

**See you next week!**


	24. Chapter 24 - The Interviews

_"This is their last chance to beg for mercy"_

* * *

**Eleanor Prada**

"The first young Lady of the evening and Eleanor, may I say the other tributes will have quite a hard time trying to outshine you in appearance?"

"Hello Ceasar. Thank you, you see my appearance is helpful I know, but I'd say they'll have an even harder time to outdo me in skills."

"Oho, so tell us then. What have you got?"

"Let's see...the bow and arrow is my very best weapon, but I'm great with close combat knives as well and then there's the general physical skills – you can bet on me being the first into the cornucopia!"

"Which would give you free choice. Clever girl!"

"I'm used to having free choice, but I won't be picky when it comes to killing the other tributes. None of them are more than dead meat to me."

"Uf, then I wouldn't want to be in their skin."

* * *

**Gnaeus Isselhardt**

"District one, Gnaeus. Your partner has already made a fierce entrance, do you think you can match that?"

"Haha, I could never compare to an impressive Lady like her, but we get along so well that I imagine we'll be a great team in the arena. Honestly, though, I'm very different from Eleanor."

"Good, good. You're your own man, I like that. What makes you so unique?"

"My confidence, for sure. I believe it is important to bring a ton of positive energy to a task and that's what I intend to do in the arena as well."

"So you are saying to have more of a light-hearted approach to the Games, if I understood that correctly. How does that translate into your fighting style?"

"You better believe I can fight, but I wouldn't be half as sexy if I were to make a grim face all day, wouldn't I?

"You're right, you're right. That grin is to die for, isn't it folks?"

* * *

**Jade Dove**

"So Jade...I'm a bit scared to ask you this, but we were all a bit shocked when we saw your training score. Would you please tell us what happened there?"

"You know how sometimes you have to be brave in life, Ceasar? I chose to be brave there and try something different. Take a risk. It backfired this time, but I can promise you that won't happen again. These Games are going to be a true challenge for me, since they haven't been going at all how I imagined them."

"Oh, so what if different then you expected?"

"First of all, I'm not allied with the other careers. They didn't value my opinion and my skills, so I found a better option, one I didn't expect.

"Tell us more..."

"It's better if it's a surprise. But just so you know – we will take our revenge and it will be sweet."

* * *

**Amran Hibiscu**

"So Amran, since Jade just told us that she isn't with the usual group, that makes you guys have the upper hand there, right?"

"No. I'm not with them either."

"Oh? District two going rogue this year, you hear that, folks? Why not?"

"I don't belong there, I don't trust them. They always break apart and I will watch from far away."

"That sounds interesting...and what do you plan to do in the meantime?"

"I have an alliance. We will hunt the other tributes, and we will show them that we also belong in the Games."

* * *

**Leela Garmin**

"Good evening, Leela. I hope you are feeling well today?"

"Yes, thank you. Do I not look well?"

"Oh, you look stunning! It's just that I can't quite tell because of your bionic eyes - we all want to know, how did you get them?"

"I hope you can excuse me...but that is a really private question. Maybe I can tell you another time, once I know you better?"

"Of course! Of course! Where are my manners? Let's talk about the arena, then, shall we? Do you have a plan? What can we expect?"

"Yes, Connor and I have several plans, one of which should work, no matter what the arena is. We want to get to know our surroundings, find useful places, and once we do that, we will specify our further actions depending on what we have at hand. It's not use planning ahead for something so unpredictable."

"I see – that is a clever approach indeed!"

* * *

**Nike Queerin**

"So Nike, let me open with a compliment. I really like your hair!"

"Thank you! I found many other tributes didn't like it...so I'm glad you do."

"Ah, don't thank me for that. Since we were all a bit concerned about your well-being, tell us, have you recovered from your reaping?"

"Hm...yes. Yes I have. I didn't think that was possible, and I thought I was sure going to die. I'm afraid to die, you know? But ever since I saw the opportunities you provide here to prepare ourselves for the Games, I'm determined to come back."

"Everyone is afraid to die, I'd say and it's very brave of you to admit it. What makes you so determined?"

"My family at home, I think they miss me and I miss them too. And my cat, Flower. If I come back, I want to make more friends as well."

"Those a quite a lot of reasons – good luck then, Nike!"

* * *

**Talise Belle**

"Talise, welcome to the Capitol! And dear, am I glad that we can host you here, since from your reaping I remember you almost didn't volunteer, right?"

"Thank you Ceasar. Yes, it was a spontaneous decisions for me and maybe I do my reputation a little harm here, but honestly, I was waiting for someone else to take the spot. I thought, there has to be a better skilled girl who wants it."

"Now don't you apologise for being humble, dear. Are you glad that you decided to come here afterall?"

"Yes, I think so. This is a lovely place, and even though it's not home, I feel like it could become my second home."

"Ah, we would love that, wouldn't we, folks?"

* * *

**Tanzan Oshane**

"Out of the beautiful District 4 as well, here comes Tanzan! I love that grin on you face – let me guess, it's because of the ten you achieved in training!"

"That's part of it, yeah. And I just imagined being back here for my victory interview."

"Haha, thinking ahead, I like it! Maybe we'll see you again fast than we expect."

"You want me to set a deadline? How about in six days?"

"Ah, I can't believe that. Six is super ambitious!"

"Well, I won't go over a week – I'd die from homesickness then. Actually, let's say five days! "

"What? Alright."

"Do you have a watch or something, you you can set a countdown?"

"I did have one, but I must have mislaid it sometime before the show started, haha!"

"Well, I hope you have a grandma as great as mine. She would always find my stuff."

"Sadly, not anymore, but would you lend me yours?"

"Only until I'm back here!"

* * *

**Kitana Olivier**

"Welcome, welcome, Kitana. You've got quite a firm handshake for that lighte of a person. I like it!"

"Thank you, Ceasar."

"But still – are you eating enough? Surely there must be some food you like here, right?"

"I just am that way. But I promise you, I eat enough and there is way more food than I could ever fit in my stomach."

"That's reassuring to hear. May I ask about your scar above your eyebrow? I think it makes you look badass."

"Hihi, if you think so. In truth it's not badass at all – I just fell down the stairs and hit my head on the wall."

"Ouch."

* * *

**Connor Du'Plessis**

"Connor, a handsome young man like you must surely be popular with the girls."

"No, not that much. I prefer to have some quiet, and I don't know how to talk to a girl. As in, flirting with a girl."

"Oh, well then we must teach you, if you make it out as a victor, haha!"

"Um, thanks? But I think I actually have a chance, since I can fight. I'm going to try with all my efforts."

"We hope you do. And what weapon do you fight with?"

"A sword. I know it's common, but they always fascinated me. Back home I worked at the blacksmiths', so at least I held one in my hands before I came here."

"That definetly is an advantage and I hope we get to see some good fights from you!"

* * *

**Halexa Caraudi**

"One of our youngest is next, so please welcome her with a big applause. Halexa!"

"My name is Halexa Caraudi, I'm the District 6 female tribute and I'm going to give you a presentation about pancakes today. I'm by no means a expert, but have tasted them here as well as at home, so I hope the information I can give you is satisfactionary. A pancake is a flat cake, often thin and round, prepared from a starch-based batter, that may contain eggs, milk and butter and cooked on a hot surface such as a griddle or frying pan, often frying with oil or butter. Archaeological evidence suggests that pancakes were probably the earliest and most widespread cereal food eaten in prehistoric societies."

"Um... so I take that pancakes are your favourite food, am I right?"

"No. Pancakes used to be eaten all over the world, even before Panem. But in Panem, everyone eats them as well. Some tributes like it with syrup and others without, some are rich enough to afford raisins. Tributes have said they wouldn't share their pancakes, so if the Gamemakers were to decide that pancakes are the only food available in the arena, that could result in bloody fights over who gets to eat all the pancakes. Those could potentially destroy any alliances."

* * *

**Owen Yearling**

"I'm sorry Owen, but I need to ask this – is my stomach rumbling?"

"No, why?"

"Because your little partner just made me hungry for pancakes, haha! I hope you tried some, they are delicious. And because she had so much to say, I didn't get the opportunity to ask her about her volunteering, so I don't want to make that mistake with you again."

"It's a family thing and if I were superstitious, I'd believe it to be a curse."

"Oh, a curse?"

"Yeah – they were my adopted family, truth be told, but Iven took in Ash, Oliver and Rose like his own children. I never got to know them really, but their stories and how they died in the Games made me want to do better."

"So you took fate into your own hands and volunteered?"

"Yes, I did. Better go on my own terms than being reaped and unprepared. Now I feel like the memory of them can get me through this."

"I sure hope so!"

* * *

**Luna Hayden**

"Moving on to District seven and the wonderful Luna! Tell us, dear, what have you practised in these last couple of days?"

"Huh? A bit of everything...Do you expect me to remember that all?"

"No, of course not. How about you tell us about your favourite weapon?"

"Sure. It's an axe..."

"And?"

"And it's not like the one at home, I guess. It had a wooden handle and this here had one out of metal. But maybe that's a good thing..."

"Ah, and does the different handle make a difference in fighting?"

"No. It just feels different. Makes my hands cold."

* * *

**Wolf Axehandler**

"Wolf, I bet not many people here know, but you grandmother was a victor – does that make you more confident?"

"Why would it?"

"Well, you know what it takes, you probably heard stories from her, right?"

"Yes. She told me some things, but she never imagined I would go into the Games myself, I think."

"Do tell, please – what were those things she told you?"

"First of all, she told me that usually it's best if you keep your secrets."

"Haha, I understand completely. Does you family know these secrets at least? They must be very proud that you are going to carry on your grandmother's legacy."

"They know, but I'm not fighting for all of them. Only for one."

* * *

**Blairoxx Alvena**

"So Blairoxx, what an interesting name! Did I pronounce it right?"

"Oh, it was very good Ceasar. You ahm, my friends call me just Roxx."

"Would you consider me your friend, then? I hope so, I hope so."

"Of course. You've been nice to me and that's what I really need right now...the Games scare me a lot."

"Do you want to hold my hand? For encouragement."

"Thank you! You know, maybe you've heard of it, but at home I lived in a quater called the little Capitol, so I got to know some of the lovely people here when they visited – they were always so helpful then and I really hope they can help me again this time. That would mean so much to me!"

"Oh, I'm sure of that!"

"That's a big relief. I mean, I'd feel so much better now that I know I won't be alone in the arena and there are people who have my back should I need anything."

* * *

**Poplin Ombre**

"Poplin, welcome! How do you feel, are you ready for your interview?"

"The talking? Sure thing! But I have to admit, I feel a little stiff in this suit."

"Well, if all these pretty girls were in my age, I'd feel that...oh. Oh, but no, you didn't mean it like that. Haha!"

"Prfff! ... Ceasar? If you're funnier than I am, this is not gonna work. See, my motto was gonna be that I'm very funny and you're ruining it right now."

"No, I'm so sorry, Poplin. I'll be more serious then...let's see."

"Of course, if you were willing to swap places, you could keep that up and I'd have a great time listening to you as well. Would that not be interesting?"

"A swap? Here, I'll just hand you the microphone."

"Thanks. So Ceasar, are you prepared to go into the Hunger Games?"

"Whaaa? Oh, no, no. I see what you did there! You're caught!"

"Pity – it almost worked out."

* * *

**Marigold Rye**

"Marigold, what a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. How are you liking the Capitol so far?"

"Um, thank you. I...I think its really big."

"Big indeed. I gurantee you, even I find out new things about the Capitol everyday and I've lived here for all my life! Haha! The arena will be smaller, I promise."

"I guess so. But I don't know if I want it to be small – it would make the others be able to find me easier."

"True, true. So you plan on a defensive strategy, yes?"

"You could say so, but not completely. I know I have to do something if I want a chance to win."

"Im sure you'll have just the right idea in just the right moment."

* * *

**Miles Gader**

"Welcome, Miles! I have to say, your hair is quite interesting. I haven't seen anything like it before, but should you win, I could see it becoming a fashion trend here, haha!"

"Thank you, Ceasar. It's called afry style, and it's kind of an historic remnant. I styled it myself."

"I'm impressed! It's always great to value what the past can still give us."

"It is. But also the future, so I'm dedicated to that as well. My parents don't know, so they are going to find out just now as well, but I've been running a kind of save haven in my room, for kids who have trouble at home and need to escape, so they can have a future."

"Wow, that is some serious good work you are doing! And should you win, would you continue to help these kids?"

"One hundred percent! I hope that as a victor, I have even more resources and possibilities."

"So it would seem. Well then, good luck with your plans!"

* * *

**Mira Gesby**

"Good evening Mira. The youngest volunteer we had in a while and dare I say, that is some bravery you showed at the reaping."

"Thanks. Also, can you call me Mira the mage, please?"

"Oh? What are you going to conjure for us?"

"Hihi...some things I probably shouldn't have. A half-eaten breadroll from the train – Our mentor said I shouldn't eat more, but I really wanted to, so I stole it. He was right, tough."

"That is quite surprising, indeed. I hope you got accostumed to the food?"

"Sure I did. I'm adaptable. And I think this one belongs to you."

"Oh dear! I had looked for my watch everywhere. I'm impressed! I looked for it everywhere, but wouldn't have guessed it was stolen..."

"Well, despite not stealing any cleaning utensils – which were available in your room, just for anyone who is interested – I made quite the clean getaway.

"Hahahahaha! But in all seriousness. Would you be so nice and give it back to me?"

"What are you going to give me in return?"

* * *

**Meat Lucher**

"And our next tribute is District tens Meat Lucher! Ooof, your the fourth in a row whose name starts with an M...I feel dizzy from that."

"What? How's that going to help me get Sponsors?"

"Excuse me?"

"You should set me up for an interesting story so I can get Sponsors out of this. That's how it works."

"Hahahaha! Well, you seem to be the straight-to-business kind of guy then. Why don't you tell your potential Sponsors about what you've been up to in training?"

"You know, I didn't really needed to train with a weapon anymore, because I know how to use it from home, being the son of the best butcher there. But I don't really need a weapon to kill."

"Uh...ahm...that's impressive. And do you have a plan for the arena yet?"

"Of course, it's simple. Kill everyone. And I'm going to do it alone, since everybody seems too stupid to be my ally."

* * *

**Haru Ryuji**

"Now, I've been waiting for you the whole evening, Haru! You need to reveal what you did to achieve that amazing score of eight in your private session! I was so surprised when I saw that!"

"You really have? Well, I think out of all people, I was the one who was most surprised. I never thought a skill like this would give me so many points – so I want to thank the Gamemakers for giving me hope."

"Oh, isn't that sweet, folks?"

"Will you be mad if I don't reveal it? I'd really love you tell you, but the other tributes are listening as well, and if they know all my skills I will lose the only advantage I have over them."

"Ah...true, true. We can surely wait paitently and I'm certain you'll show us once the Games have started."

"Thank you and I will! I hope that if I just run, I can survive the bloodbath and get enough time to try my best."

"And we wish you the best of luck with that!"

* * *

**Galvan Moss**

"Welcome, Galvan. Your little District partner was quite reluctant with her answers, so I hope you are willing to talk a bit more openly. For example, are you two getting along well?"

"No, we aren't. It's her fault, she has her preconceptions, but I won't let them deflect me from the main goal."

"Which is to win the Games, of course."

"Yes. I'll have to give her that, she's clever not to tell about her skills, and I won't do so either."

"So can you at least tell us about your tactics? Will you go offensive or defensive?"

"My tactic is to not be boring. I know how to work through hardships and I know you find it entertaining when a tribute does, so I guarantee I won't dissappoint."

"Haha, that is all we can wish for! Thank you, Galvan."

* * *

**Wisteria Lockwind**

"Wisteria, a gorgeous young lady! I hope you are prepared?"

"Thank you, Ceasar, and yes, I am. I can't believe that I finally get to wear such a beautiful dress – that's a dream of mine fulfilled right here."

"Oh, I can totally see that. So you like it in the Capitol?"

"More than I'm willing to admit to myself, honestly. It's a great city and I can't get enough of looking down at the streets, where everyone is such a unique person."

"Did you hear that, folks? I think Wisteria deserves our gratitude for that compliment. What about the Games? Are you prepared for them as well?"

"I hope so. I took some time adjusting, but I am lucky enough to be fit and healthy, and I have a strong alliance as well."

"That sounds promising!"

* * *

**Austin Terrine**

"Austin, there are so many questions I want to ask, but I doubt we have time for all of them. Your scars, your private session score, your reaping..."

"Ähm, I'll just pick one, is that alright?"

"Yes, yes. That would help me out quite a bit!"

"Okay, so the private sessions. I really chose a skill which I taught myself at home, and I showed only this one thing, so I wa really surprised the Gamemakers were that impressed. But it gives me hope and now I believe I can get back home. There's family waiting for me, you know?"

"I didn't but please, tell us more."

"Well, my family is a bit of a hot topic, but just know that I really love them and...and I want to tell them, not matter what, please don't lose faith in me. I might have made some risky decisions already, but I need to take that risk."

"Ah, I think they will be with you all the way. And we will be too, won't we, folks?"

* * *

**But today is really thrusday :D**

**The Interviews are done, little snippets from each tribute, and it was really fun to write everybody for this one. One last impression before we go into the arena, and I can't believe it myself, but there is only one chapter left before the bloodbath! **

**Therefore, I have put up a poll on my profile, where you can vote on your five favourite tributes. Please, if you read this story, go there and leave your opinion, those few clicks would help me a ton. **

**Credits to wikipedia, because I took part of Halexa's pencake presentation out of there. **

**See you next week!**


	25. Chapter 25 - Last Preparations

_"Mercy is giving people what they need, not what they deserve." (unknown)_

* * *

**Gnaeus Isselhardt (18) – District 1**

* * *

These extravagant trousers are way more comfortable than expected, and stretchy as well, albeit the golden glitter on them looking like armour. So it's easy to run after my allies as soon as the last interview is done and we are dismissed.

"Hey Talise, Tanzan, wait!"

Tomorrow we go into the arena. Eleanor is right by my side, opening up her updo to let the curls fall down freely. It doesn't fit with her high-neck dress, yet I imagine it must be torture to have your hair so tightly bound all evening. She's looking just as nervous as I feel myself, no wonder with both our greatest dream coming true, but of course this will mark the moment when we become enemies and all the good fun will be with a grain of salt.

"What's the matter?", Tanzan asks as he and Talise turn around. "It's late, we should go and get a good night of sleep."

"If we don't take long, say an hour, you'll still have around nine hours left before wake-up time." Talise teases with a slight eye-roll. So she doesn't care about a sleep schedule?

Well, I know who will keep watch when Eleanor, Tanzan and I are taking our sweet naps. I understand him well, especially since I noted down my sleeping hours for years and years back home, keeping track of my recovery process. Yet I did make exceptions and the last night before the Games seems to me like a worthy occasion.

"So no pre-Games party?", I ask, hearing the disappointment in my own voice. "We could watch an old Games replay or something, I'm honestly itching to get this going. Couldn't sleep anyway right now", I tell them, surprised by my own spontaneous idea. I hadn't realisee I couldn't sleep, but now a TV night seems exactly like what I want, focusing on others, like I did in training, instead of me. Damn that – whatever happens, soon enough videos of me will be shown to trainees back home and they'll comment on what I did right or wrong. How weird is that?

"You could try meditation, I could show you how it works", Tanzan offers in all seriousness.

"What? Only weirdos do that, you know?" Eleanor suppresses her laughter.

"My grandma taught me – so maybe we're both weirdos, but at least it's effective." How can someone look so unaffected and still sound somewhat defensive like that?

"I'm good, thanks", I reject the offer, because my brain surely can't cope with another thing to learn right now. No – this itchyness needs to be fought another way, so I can go in tomorrow with a clear head. Speaking of a clear head: "So if you girls want to, we could still party – I wouldn't be mad at all about having some nice company. But we should do some strategy talk first, since I've been carrying around this for the whole day now. Just needed to show you."

I finally manage to remind myself of what I wanted to talk to them about in the first place. For a weird half-second I fear the letter is gone, but then I get it out of my pocket and show it around. A smooth slip of paper with a message written on it. More a note than a letter, but oh well, who cares about these distinctions?

_If you want to do yourself a favour, kill Owen in the bloodbath._

The writing is almost too perfect to be human, as if made with a ruler, so no one would be able to recognise the handwriting. Well, someone is afraid here, yet bold enough to contact us with a request like this? Or is it a well intended warning?

"Who gave that to you?", Eleanor asks.

"No one gave it to me – it pinned to our apartment door and I just happened to find it there."

"And you didn't show me all day?" It sounds like an accusation, a tone she hasn't used before with me, but only with others, so I feel the need to defend myself.

"When should I have shown you? You were already with your mentor this morning and then I needed to prepare for my own interview. Also, it's best if we discuss this all together."

"Owen is the big one from District 6, right?", Talise thinks out loud. She looks for confirmation from one of us, which she gets from both Tanzan and me, since I have of course thought about it the whole day and Tanzan probably even talked to the guy back in training. I still couldn't find out why he was so eager to get to know people.

"Is there anything speaking against it?"

"No, I guess not."

"But is there anything speaking for it?"

"That's exactly the problem, guys. I'd say it's a panic try from an outlier to eliminate strong competition", Eleanor ends the back and forth of Tanzan and Talise as they lean over the note, getting uncomfortably close to me.

"Anyone who is dead will help us, so if we happen to get him tomorrow, why not? And if he's too far out to reach, then we'll get him on another day."

Tanzans suggestions couldn't be more obvious. He doesn't care, or at least not enough to consider options. Might be because he wants to sleep. Might be because he told us his tactic was to just pick off anyone who was slow enough to fall into his hands.

"Well, he's part of a big alliance and they have Amran from District 2 in there. We should do anything we can to diminish them early", I give my own thoughts, despite this angle being just the lastest of many I considered.

"What if it's a trap?", Talise speaks out the worries I had earlier today, damn her. If it was only me who got frightened by this thought it would basically prove me wrong, and this would have been one of them few times I wanted to be proven wrong.

"You think they want to fight it out at the cornucopia already? That would be stupid, everyone knows its a fight the careers always win." Eleanor shakes her head in disbelief, a mocking tone underneath her voice.

"We can definetly be first at the weapons. They're a big alliance, they need to go for supplies as well – so that's when we'll kill that Owen guy. We'll be expecting him and any trap they might have planned. They don't know what the cornucopia will be like anyway", Talise say, clearly with the intention to make a decision. I'll have to give her that, it sounds like a good plan.

"So can I go to sleep now? My head is buzzing." Tanzan doesn't wait for an answer and instead turns, leaving us three alone.

"So what Games do you want to watch?", Talise asks before she continues. "I'd like something old, there are some cool moments in them."

* * *

***Trigger Warning: Suicidal thoughts**

**Halexa Caraudi (13) – District 6**

* * *

They have given it back to me, right after the Interviews. The clown man of an Escort approaching with his clown-smile, waving his way too long arms. Stupid. Stupid fuckers. As if a little girl couldn't do them any harm. She wouldn't cheat. She wouldn't have a vengeance. Just a poor little girl clinging to an electronic key.

Of course, I already new it would seem harmless in others' eyes.

I won't let go of it now. It's between the rough fabric of my underwear, my very own, which I demand them to give back to me, and my bare skin. Luciana probably loved to wear the fine clothes, nightgowns that make people feel like they are dressed in clouds, but I long ago found I don't need that to sleep like a rock.

The Interview was honestly fun and the aftermath of that high still lingers in my blood, which is why I roll around on the floor from side to side, trying to find the tiredness I succumbed to since last year around that time. Echoes from tonight are still in my head as loud as reality. While I thought I would stare in confused faces by having an essay about pancakes, all they did was cheer. Cheer, scream, "pancakes, pancakes!".

I went off the stage snorting with laughter. The Capitolites love me. Boom. All their dreams crushed right in the beginning. Despite it never being part of my plan. Just a good addition.

A sudden wave of need washes over me. Is it still one more night and half a day to live through? Not that I couldn't do it...I just don't want to. Whatever comes next, if there comes anything, it will be better than this reality. Nothing would be fine as well. I know Luciana would disagree, but of course this isn't her choice anymore.

Almost a whole year now since I was last plagued with nightmares. Tiberius and Marcella from District two tearing apart my sunshine sister. She was the only person to ever make an honest connection with me. We survived the streets together. I thought we'd survive anything together. If my last night of sleep is a nightmare, would I care? Yes.

So I won't have that happen. I think I should tell Luciana. That I have everything under control, that I even have a story I want to tell her. She'd like a story from me, because usually it was her who made them up, as we sat in a street corner, keeping ourselves warm.

I close my eyes and finally drift off to sleep. Calm.

_We made a bed out of dirty straw, back when we had just been thrown out. Adjusting to the streets was hard. But the straw, thrown away by someone on the outside of the District, someone rich enough to have animals in an urban District, was comfortable like few other things, still. Albeit a bit dirty, we had picked out the good bits to make ourselves a bed with. _

_"You know, I wanted to ask Mom for a cat. I knew we were in trouble, but I thought a cat might help us get better", Luciana starts, her arm wrapped around me and she smiles._

_"A cat wouldn't have helped. They hated to care for us and they'd have hated to have to care for the cat on top of us."_

_"I know." She sighs. "Once I saw one on the streets at the car factory. It was pitch black like smoke, and I think it was a good colour to have. You know, a good way to hide in the shadows, so the humans wouldn't find it and the mice wouldn't either. I followed the cat, and it had kittens." _

_Luciana shows me on her fingers, putting out one, two, three. "They were all white, and I thought they probably wouldn't survive long. And then when I came around the corner to take a closer look, they all peaked up their noses, they were so curious. I took some dirt off of the ground, and I made the white kittens black."_

_I shake my head at her, only Luciana would have such a terrible idea. "You know that the mother will lick the dirt away, right?"_

_"Yeah, but I can imagine she wouldn't. Maybe she has learned from my trick and makes her kitten roll in the dirt everytime the train hunting mice." Luciana giggles and I join her in it. Giggles keep us warm. _

_The scene changes, as I decide to get back into the now. I imagine myself sitting in that same place with her, but now we are both our actual ages. It's in the air that we've gotten older. _

_"You know, Luciana, I once held a presentation about pancakes. I don't think I told the people anything new, because I only told them what I new and I'm not a good cook. But it was ridiculous how they loved me for it. Maybe sometime in the future, they'll make an actual arena after my ideas. I don't know if we'll be able to watch from above, but I think tributes fighting over pancakes would be way better than them fighting for their lives."_

_"You've got a strange humor, dear sister. I always feel like when you try to be funny, it ends up not being funny at all."_

_"Well, I didn't try to be funny, actually. At least not for other people, but only for myself."_

_"That's good."_

_"Do you remember the first time we dropped a bomb on one of the old warehouses? I made it way too strong and the explosion burned up all the food."_

_"What about it?"_

_"I'll be able to tell you tomorrow how much my bomb burned away from the cornucopia. I just hope that I'm really close to the careers."_

* * *

**Mira Gesby (14) – District 10**

* * *

If I had just gotten that window open faster, I wouldn't be here. Mom, Alicia, Keith, Sorcha and I would sit in front of our TV, or maybe I would be out outside, because many people watch the start of the Hunger Games in the public viewing place. Empty houses, good to make a quick run through and get some small goodies.

It is weird in the Capitol, where I have everything I want and more. I just need to tell one of these Avox people and they bring it to me, even funny requests like a Hoola Hoop, or plastic food to mix under the real food for my Escort. I hate it. Maybe that's the only good thing about going into the arena in a few hours, that at least I will have to care for myself again, and I can know exactly what I want.

Otherwise, the prospect doesn't look so nice. I'd rather not be here. I could have sneaked away before the reaping and not volunteered, and they wouldn't have found me, I'm sure of it. The peacekeepers would have looked for a few weeks, but then forgotten me thinking about another thief – there are so many in District 10 it's basically impossible to have control over all of them.

"Where's your optimisim, Mira?", I ask myself and try to grin at the bathroom mirror. It's a huge thing, twice as high as me. It doesn't work. With so many things going wrong, it just doesn't work. At least the Interview went okay.

But I couldn't find an ally. Twenty-four tributes is the size of a school class, so you'd bet it's possible to find at least one among them who would want to be your friend. It's always like this, yet what had been true back home has come true here as well. No one wants to be my friend. Well, pretended friend, because the original plan was to find someone I could kill.

Turnes out, it's too foreign for me to approach someone and straight up lie to them. I was fine all my life with just myself and my family, and here I would have needed to talk, make someone trust me. The ones where I thought I could do it weren't as easy to make friends with. Haru from District 11 told me I wasn't useful enough. A twelve-year-old! She told me I wasn't useful!

Maybe I can still just hide and kill a lone tribute once they are asleep? It wouldn't be as impressive – I basically choke myself thinking that, making an impressive kill – like murdering an ally, but it would be something. Still an opponent less.

I'm about to make my way out of the bathroom, having stood here for some minutes doing nothing, but as soon as I unlock the door, I stop. I lock it again. What a fool am I?! It's not too late to at least do something, if I have to go sneaking around alone, I at least can be as effective as possible with that. I walk close to the mirror, the arena will probably have at least some kind of woods. That's what most of them are, right?

So how am I hoping to sneak around in the woods with hair looking like fire? Sure, it doesn't smoke, but the orange is not a colour that blends into nature so well. The trainer said there are certain colours which hide you better or make you visible.

With a tight grip around a small strand of hair I pull at them. It's not so bad. Like needles, but smaller, and it gives me a headache after the tird time I pull them out. In the mirror, nothing has changed.

Spinning around, I search for scissors. They have everything, so there are bound to be some. I rummage through several drawers, the fifth one finally a success. How am I going to cut away right from the hairline? Well, no other way than to experiment with it. So I start to move the blades, which feel awkward in my hands, made for people who use their right, probably. It's astonishing – just few seconds later, I look like a plucked chicken on mom's kitchen table. In truth, I'm not so chicken.

Now the grin is working again. "Mira, you've truly outdone yourself with that idea", I tell my reflection and stick my tongue out at it. If it helps, it helps.

There are still some single hairs left, and this time I make the cuts more carefully. This one isn't a joke, but just the imagination of my Escorts' shocked face when she sees what I've done...I'll need to come up with a cool joke quickly.

* * *

**Hi there...after fighting a strange error, I still found a way to upload this. I have to say, I'm super insecure with this chapter, especially with the POV of Halexa. I wanted to get it exactly right, but I guess with a character like her, that's super difficult. I hope it turned out well, since I realise the topic is a very serious one. **

**Now, on to several points I need to check.  
**

**First of all, thank you so much for all the reviews, I'm always super happy to hear from all of you guys! Glad you like the story so far and going forward, I hope you will like the arena as well. If you have any issues or helpful advice, feel free to adress them in the reviews as well :) **

**Second, the poll on my profile is still open, so if you haven't done so already, go there to vote for your favourites. **

**Third, I have updated my profile with the Sponsor points everyone has available, and since it turned out my math has been wrong for how many points people would achieve, I've also adjusted prices – like, adjusted them by a lot. I'm sorry if this whole things is confusing to you, I have to admit, I miscalculeted, so that's all my fault.**

**There is one last bet before the fighting starts, and of course it's about the bloodbath. You can send your answers in ****via PM until January 22****nd****. ****Questions are as follows: **

1\. How many will die in the bloodbath? (20 points for the right answer)

2\. Who will die in the bloodbath? (Name only as many as you guessed would die – 10 points for each correct name)

****That's it, guys. That's all from the Capitol and next week we go directly into the arena. **I want to give a warning in advance, that the bloodbath will be the longest chapter yet. There is so much ground to cover and I don't want to cut it short – it's the beginning of the Games afterall. **

**Next time, there will be tributes dying...**


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